LTY  of  CALEFORNi* 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
LIBRARY 


OLD  ENGLISH  IDYLS 


JOHN    LESSLIE    HALL 

(TRANSLATOR  OF  BEOWULF) 

PROFESSOR  OF  THE  ENGLISH  LANGUAGE  AND  LITERATURE  IN  THE 
COLLEGE  OF  WILLIAM  AND  MARY 


"  England  was  conquered  to  the  music  of  verse, 
and  settled  to  the  sound  of  the  harp." 

STOPFORD   BROOKE. 

"  No  doubt,  as  they  pushed  the  bows  of  their 
long  keels  on  to  the  shore  of  the  Isle  of  Thanet, 
they  shouted  short  staves  of  verse  with  so  great  a 
roaring  that  Gildas  might  well  call  them  '  whelps 
from  the  lair  of  the  barbarian  lioness.'  " 

STOPKORL)   BROOKE. 


BOSTON,  U.S.A. 
GINN  &  COMPANY,   PUBLISHERS 


1899 

119851 


COPYRIGHT,  1899 
Bv  JOHN   LESSLIK  HALL 


ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


TS 
35"  IS" 


Dedication 

1 1  hear  in  the  chamber  above  me 

The  patter  of  little  feet, 
The  sound  of  a  door  that  is  opened, 
And  voices  soft  and  sweet. 

'They  climb  up  into  my  turret 

O'er  the  arms  and  back  of  my  chair; 
If  I  try  to  escape,  they  surround  me; 
They  seem  to  be  everywhere." 

LONGFELLOW. 


PREFACE. 


THE  kind  reception  given  my  translation  of  Beoivnlf 
by  both  philological  and  literary  journals,  by  philologists 
and  litterateurs,  has  encouraged  me  to  further  work  in 

the  same  field.     This  time,  however,   I  have  indulged 
^> 
^X    my  own  imagination,  with  some  help  from  myth  and 

'    history ;  and  I  shall   hope  for  a  larger  audience  than 
before. 

In  the  following  pages  I  have  tried  to  give  a  pano- 

•T  ramie  view  of  the  Teutonic  conquest  of  England  and 
of  the  heroic  period  of  Old  English,  or  Anglo-Saxon, 
history.  I  have,  as  it  were,  assumed  the  role  of  an 

^  English  gleeman  of  about  A.D.  1000,  and  have  sought 
to  reproduce  to  some  extent  the  spirit,  the  metre,  and 
the  leading  characteristics  of  Old  English  verse. 

As  to  details  and  technique,  I  have  changed  my  mind 
somewhat  since  I  published  the  translation  of  Beowulf. 
I  have  concluded  that  a  reader  who  can  enjoy  allitera 
tion  on  two  lines  out  of  three  will  willingly  go  farther. 
Indeed,  friendly  critics  of  the  translation  referred  to 
have  said  that  alliteration  should  have  been  used  on 


vi  Preface. 

every  line,  as  that  work  created  a  taste  for  alliteration 
without  satisfying  it  sufficiently. 

In  another  matter  also  I  have  somewhat  altered  my 
opinion  —  namely,  in  regard  to  the  juxtaposition  of  two 
accented  syllables  ;  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  scholar  will 
find  in  this  work  a  goodly  number  of  C  and  D  types, 
along  with  the  three  (A,  B,  and  E)  used  in  my  Beowulf. 

In  the  preface  to  my  Beowulf  translation  I  referred 
to  Browning  as  using  cadences  closely  resembling  those 
of  Anglo-Saxon  verse.  I  might  have  referred  also  to 
Longfellow's  Challenge  of  Thor  and  Nun  of  Nidaros, 
and  to  Lowell's  Gudrida  s  Prophecy,  as  showing  that 
these  two  poets  felt  the  power  of  old  Germanic  metres. 
In  the  same  connection  I  would  refer  to  Tennyson's 
remarkable  translation  of  the  Battle  of  Brnnanburh  and 
to  The  Gleam,  one  of  his  latest  published  poems. 

While  the  poets  of  the  last  generation  were  feeling 
out  towards  these  old  metres,  a  great  scholar  of  their 
day  in  his  public  lectures1  was  yearning  for  a  return  to 
the  form  and  spirit  of  our  ancient  verse,  and  predicting 
that  there  would  some  day  be  a  renaissance  of  that  form 
and  spirit. 

Very  recently  Mr.  William  Watson  and  Mr.  W.  K. 
Henley,  two  of  the  younger  poets  of  England,  have 
made  use  of  rhymeless  measures  closely  resembling 

1  George  P.  Marsh,  Lectures  on  the  English  Language,  Lecture  XXIII. 


Preface.  vii 

those  of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry.  These  are  possibly  due 
to  the  study  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  poetry  itself,  or  they 
may  be  experiments  made  under  the  influence  of  some 
of  the  poets  named  above.  However  that  may  be,  I  am 
convinced  that  many  of  our  poets  and  a  large  number 
of  their  readers  have  a  "feeling"  for  the  ancient  forms 
of  English  verse ;  and  I  believe  that  the  friends  of  my 
Beowulf  work  and  some  others  will  be  willing  to  follow 
me  while  I  put  into  verse-forms  approximating  the 
Anglo-Saxon  types  some  of  the  myths,  legends,  and 
poetical  situations  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  era. 

Mr.  Henley's  poem  to  Margaret  E.  Henley  and  Mr. 
Watson's  England  My  Mother  I  would  cite  in  connec 
tion  with  the  reference  made  to  them  in  a  foregoing 

paragraph. 

J.  L.  HALL. 

WlLLIAMSBURG,  VA., 

Jan.  i,  1899. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  THE  CALLING  OF  HENGIST  AND  HORSA       .        .  i 

II.  THE  LANDING  OF  HENGIST  AND  HORSA  .        .  11 

III.  THE  LADY  ROWENA 20 

IV.  THE  DEATH  OF  HORSA      .         .         .        .        .•  34 
V.  CERDIC  AND  ARTHUR     ......  47 

VI.  AUGUSTINE 59 

VII.  ALFRED  .........  73 

VIII.  EDGAR  THE  PEACEABLE     .....  92 


OLD    ENGLISH    IDYLS. 
I. 

THE    CALLING    OF    HENGIST   AND    HORSA. 

Lo  !  in  legend  and  lay  long  we  have  heard  of 

The  fame  of  our  fathers,  folk-leaders  mighty, 

Eminent  earlmen.     Oft,  gleemen-thanes 

All  through  the  ages,  excellent  song-smiths, 

Have  sung  of  the  bold  and  brave  and  illustrious 

Fathers  of  England  from  far  o'er  the  waters, 

Earls  of  the  eastward,  how,  oft  in  their  sea-boats, 

They  sailed  from  their  happy  homes  on  the  mainland 

Far  o'er  the  flood-deeps,  famed,  mighty  ones, 

Westward  to  Albion,  wishing,  craving 

More  honor  and  glory  than  ever  had  come  to 

Earls  of  that  era.     /  have  ne'er  heard  of 

Men  so  mighty  of  muscle  and  valor, 

Earls  so  eminent,  as  the  atheling-brothers, 

Hengist  and  Horsa,  heroes  of  Anglia, 

Lords  of  the  mainland.     The  lay  of  the  gleeman 

Is  full  of  their  fame.     Far  'mid  the  races, 

The  minstrel's  song,  swelling  to  heavenward, 

Tells  of  the  splendid,  spacious,  audacious 


2  Old  English  Idyls. 

Deeds  of  those  daring,  doughty,  invincible 

Fathers  of  freedom  who  fared  o'er  the  waters 

Hither  to  England,  and  here  builded  them 

A  kingdom  so  mighty  that  men  cannot  shake  it, 

And  hell  cannot  take  it.     These  high-hearted,  eminent 

Earls  of  the  mainland,  eager  for  glory, 

Were  feasting,  carousing  in  their  far-away,  sea-washed 

Home  in  the  billows :  blithe  were  the  sea-kings, 

Beer  was  abundant.     Their  beakers  lifted  they, 

Lustily  shouting  :  the  sheen-bright,  delicious 

Drink  of  good  heroes  they  drained  merrily 

From  cups  that  were  brimming,  from  bumpers  adorned 

By  the  art  of  the  graver.     'Mid  all  of  the  races, 

Kindreds  and  folks,  few  had  not  heard  of 

Wihtgils's  sons,  Woden's  great-grandsons, 

Hengist  and  Horsa,  heroes  distinguished, 

Land-chiefs  beloved.     Lavish  of  treasures, 

They  feasted  and  shouted  far  over  the  waters, 

East  over  the  ocean,  where  Anglians  and  Jutemen 

And  men  of  the  Saxons,  mighty,  dauntless, 

Royalest  of  races,  were  reared  'mid  the  billows, 

Founders  of  freedom.     There  flowed  in  abundance 

The  dear-loved  mead,  mellow,  delicious 

Cheer-drink  of  heroes  :  high  was  the  glee, 

The  bright  cups  clattered.     Clear  to  the  welkin 

Sang  then  the  singer  the  sweet,  heart-cheering, 

Most  winsome  of  melodies  men  ever  listened  to, 

Heroes  under  heaven.     I  have  heard  never 

'Neath  arch  of  the  ether  of  earls  gladsomer, 

Of  men  merrier  with  music  and  laughter 


The  Calling  of  Hengist  and  Horsa.          3 

And  song  of  the  gleeman.     Sang  he  exultingly, 

In  hall  and  in  bower,  to  hero  and  maiden, 

Of  the  daring  deeds  done  by  their  fathers, 

Of  mighty  marvels  of  muscle  and  valor 

Wrought  by  their  forefathers,  far-famous  heroes  and 

Athelings  of  old.     Earls,  hero-thanes 

Harked  to  the  harper.     The  high-mooded  troopers 

Lifted  their  lances  and  lustily  bellowed, 

Clattered  and  clanged  them,  clashing  and  crashing 

Their  shields  and  their  shafts,  shouting,  yelling, 

So  great  was  their  glee ;  good  were  their  folk-lords, 

Their  liegelords  beloved  were  lavish  of  jewels  ; 

Beer  was  abundant,  and  beakers  were  foaming 

And  bumpers  were  brimming  ;  the  benches  did  rattle, 

Loud  was  the  laughter.  —  Then  the  lady  Rowena, 

Wavy-haired,  winsome,  well-loved  daughter 

Of  Hengist  the  atheling,  entered  the  mead-hall ; 

With  jewels  unnumbered,  the  gem-brilliant  maiden 

Glittered  and  glimmered  and  glinted  resplendently, 

Star-like  did  sparkle,  as  stately,  decorous 

She  came  through  the  building.     The   brothers  were 

seated, 

Hero  by  hero,  high  on  the  dais, 
Famed  folk-leaders.     Fondly  Hengist,  then, 
Greeted  his  daughter :  down  by  her  father 
She  sat  on  the  settle,  sweet,  elf-lovely, 
Curly-locked  lady.     The  lay  of  the  gleeman,  then, 
Sounded  sonorous,  swelled  like  a  chorus, 
Rising  to  skyward ;  the  scop's  clear  strains, 
The  harp's  sweet  harmony,  heavenward  mounted, 


4  Old  English  Idyls. 

Merry  their  mood  :  of  men  under  heaven 
There  is  none  wise  enough  to  know  or  to  dream 
What  Wyrd  the  weaver  willeth  to  bring  him 
Of  good  or  of  ill  :  to  each  happen eth 
Of  weal  or  of  woe  what  Wyrd  appoint  eth  him  : 
She  is  supreme.  —  There  passed,  then,  a  liegeman 
Where  Hengist  and  Horsa,  high-mooded  kinsmen, 
Bold,  battle- fierce,  their  beakers  were  tasting, 
Spake  with  decorum,  came  with  his  message  then, 
Door- warden  doughty  :  "  Dear-loved  leaders, 
There  are  come  to  our  coast,  craving  to  see  ye, 
Eager  and  anxious  earlmen  from  Albion's 
Far-away  shores,  have  fared  o'er  the  water-ways, 
Came  o'er  the  currents,  craving  to  see  the 
Beloved  lords  of  the  lands  of  the  Saxons, 
Whose  fame,  they  say,  hath  afar  and  awide  been 
Borne  on  the  breezes  that  blow  to  that  far-land 
West  o'er  the  waters.     They  wish  and  do  beg  ye 
That  ye  famous  folk-leaders  will  fain  grant  them 
A  hearing  to  have  now."     Hengist  replied,  then, 
Offspring  of  Woden  :  "  Etheldrith  dear, 
Excellent  earlman,  hast  thou  asked  these  wanderers 
What  led  them  to  leave  their  land  and  their  kindred 
Far  o'er  the  ocean,  and  out  on  the  waters 
.  Boldly  to  battle  the  blustering  currents, 
Sailing  the  seas  ?  "     Said  then  Etheldrith, 
Door-warden  doughty  :  "  I  doubt  not  the  sleepless, 
Watchful  and  dauntless  ward  of  the  sea-coast 
Questioned  them  coming,  as  his  custom  is  ever 
To  stand  on  the  strand  striding  his  charger, 


The  Calling  of  Hengist  and  Horsa.          5 

Curly-man ed  courser."     Quoth  then  Hengist, 

Wihtgils's  son  :  "  Safely  then  lead  them, 

Excellent  Etheldrith,  in  to  the  building 

While  bumpers  are  brimming  ;  bid  them  to  enter  the 

Hall  of  good  heroes."     High  on  the  dais,  then, 

Sat  the  two  brothers  ;  blithe  were  the  earlmen, 

Doughty  and  daring :  of  death,  horrible 

Robber  and  reaver,  recked  then  but  little 

The  far-famed,  unflinching,  fearless,  invincible 

Earlmen  of  Anglia.     All  was  yet  joyous, 

Happy  was  Horsa :  for  him  was  not  done  then 

The  weaving  of  woe  that  Wyrd,  the  mighty  one, 

Winds  as  she  will  for  world-folk  and  races, 

Children  of  men.  —  Mindful  of  courtesy, 

Etheldrith  came  in  to  the  wine-hall, 

Bringing  the  messengers,  men  of  the  waters, 

Earls  of  the  ocean.     The  excellent  liegemen 

And  kinsmen  of  Hengist  and  Horsa  were  feasting ; 

Singing  their  songs,  sat  they  carousing, 

Gladsome,  gleeful.     Gaily  shouted  they, 

Sorrow  they  knew  not.     The  sons  of  the  athelings, 

Brave-hearted  battle-thanes,  were  blithely  quaffing  the 

Luscious  and  mellow  mead  that  was  flowing 

In  beaker  embossed  and  bumper  ycarven 

By  art  of  the  craftsman.     All  their  equipments, 

Armor  and  arms,  did  the  earlmen  of  Albion 

Early  do  off,  entered  the  building, 

The  wide-famed  wassail-hall ;  with  welcome  were  greeted 

By  many  an  Anglian  as  ale-cups  were  passing. — 

Ludwell  discoursed,  a  lord  of  the  Britons, 


6  Old  English  Idyls. 

Earlman  of  Albion  :  "  Ye  earth-famous  brothers, 
Hengist  and  Horsa,  heroes  of  Saxony, 
Fair-haired,  far-renowned  folk-leaders  mighty, 
Hearken  our  message.     Hither  the  currents, 
The  billows  of  ocean  brought  us  uninjured, 
Bold  in  our  barks,  braving  the  waters, 
The  seething  surges,  sent,  sped  upon 
Errand  most  urgent,  asking  the  mighty  and 
Far-famous,  fearless,  fierce-mooded,  dauntless 
Hengist  and  Horsa  to  help  us  to  conquer  the 
Direful,  devilish  demons  and  monsters 
That,  night  and  day,  never  relenting, 
Dog  and  pursue  us,  devils  from  hell, 
Fiercest  of  foemen."     Furious-mooded 
Hengist,  then,  answered :  "  Hear  when  I  tell  ye 
That  Wyrd  all-wise  willingly  helpeth 
The  undaunted  earl  if  doughty  his  spirit ! 
Go  ye  then  back  ;  bear  to  your  people 
This  message  from  Hengist,  men  of  the  westward, 
That  death  is  dearer  to  the  dauntless  hero 
Than  infamous  life  is."     Ludwell  replied, 
Prince  of  the  Britons  :  "  Bravest  of  warriors, 
High-mooded  Hengist,  hearken,  we  beg  thee. 
We  are  kinsmen  and  vassals  of  Vortigern  mighty, 
King  of  the  Kentmen.     We  came  at  his  bidding 
To  pray  that  your  troopers,  with  ye  two  as  leaders, 
The  brave-hearted,  battle-true  barons  of  Saxony, 
Will  lend  us  their  aid,  our  land  and  dear  ones 
To  defend  from  the  furious,  fiery,  implacable 
Fiends  of  the  north.     Foemen  oppress  us, 


The  Calling  of  Hengist  and  Horsa.          7 

Cruelly  harry  us,  killing  and  slaying  us : 

Men  of  the  Picts  painted  and  horrible, 

Those  grim,  grisly  and  ghastly  destroyers, 

From  the  north  swooping  are  sacking  and  burning 

Our  hedges  and  homesteads,  heedless  of  pity, 

Fell,  fierce-mooded.     And  from  far  o'er  the  waters 

Men  of  the  Scots,  mighty  and  cruel, 

Grind  us  to  powder ;  greedy  of  plunder, 

They  rob  and  ravage,  ruthless  and  savage 

Demons  and  devils.     Dear  hero-knights, 

Wide-famous  war-leaders,  will  ye  not  hearken 

Our  mournful  entreaties  ?     Our  true-hearted  liegelord, 

The  wielder  of  Kentmen,  well  will  requite  ye, 

Vortigern  the  king  will  care  for  and  grant  you 

Gifts  as  gracious  as  good  he  bestoweth 

Free  from  his  hand."     Hengist  the  chieftain 

Laughed  then  loudly,  land-prince  distinguished, 

Said  then  smilingly  :  "  Meseemeth  't  were  better 

That  your  king  grapple  and  gird  on  his  weapons, 

His  armor  and  arms,  his  excellent  falchion, 

And  lead  out  his  loyal  liegemen  and  vassals 

To  fight  for  their  homes,  than  hide  in  his  palace 

In  shameless  deeds,  shaking  with  terror, 

Meek  'mid  his  maidens  :  many  have  told  us 

He  slinks  like  a  sluggard.     But  say,  good  Ludwell, 

What  aileth  Albion's  earlmen  and  princes 

To  weep,  wailing  like  women  and  children, 

And  flee  from  the  foemen  ?     Your  fathers  of  old 

Were  brave  as  the  bear.     With  bosoms  undaunted 

They  looked  for  the  legions  that  long  had  been  winning 


8  Old  English  Idyls. 

Wars  o'er  the  waters,  waded  to  sea- ward 

Meeting  the  foeman.     Much  have  your  people 

Failed  of  their  fame.     Folk-leaders  worthy, 

Hasten  ye  homeward  hence  in  your  vessel, 

Safe  in  your  sea-boat,  say  to  your  liegelord 

That  heroes  of  Anglia  heeded  your  message  and 

Will  send  you  assistance.     The  seas  angrily 

Foam  in  their  fury ;  far  is  the  journey, 

Dire  the  danger :  if  we  dare  to  adventure 

Crossing  the  currents,  our  keels  imperilling, 

Far  from  fatherland,  facing  the  billows 

That  roar  and  tumble  and  toss  and  rumble, 

Where  the  wind  northeast,  icicle-laden 

Fiercely  doth  whistle,  —  if  we  face  the  great  tempests 

Bringing  you  aid,  offer  ye  nothing 

Our  kindness  requiting  ?     Will  the  king  of  the  Kentmen 

Gladly  give  to  us  gold  in  abundance, 

Shepherd  of  peoples,  will  shower  upon  us 

Gems  and  jewels,  your  generous-mooded 

Liegelord  beloved  ? "     Ludwell  rejoined, 

Earlman  of  Albion  :  "  Eastward  of  Kent, 

Off  in  the  ocean  is  the  island  of  Thanet, 

The  loveliest  of  lands  that  are  lapped  by  the  billows, 

Winsomest  of  isles  of  all  engirdled 

In  the  wash  of  the  waves,  water-encircled, 

Fairest  of  places.     This  fain,  gratefully, 

We  '11  grant  you  to  hold  as  home-land  and  country 

Forever  and  ever,  excellent-mooded 

Lords  of  the  Saxons ;  and  lavish  of  treasures 

We  '11  fee  your  dear  troopers,  if  ye  fare  hitherward 


The  Calling  of  Hengist  and  Horsa.          9 

And  help  us  to  hurl  these  horrible,  cruel 

Demons  and  devils  to  their  dens  in  the  northland 

And  west  o'er  the  waters."     "  Well  have  ye  spoken," 

Hengist  exclaimed  ;  "we  will  come  early  now, 

Braves  of  the  Britons,  and  bring  you  assistance, 

Soon  o'er  the  sea-deeps.     You  may  say,  strangers, 

That  Hengist  and  Horsa,  the  high-mooded,  dauntless 

Kings  of  the  creeks,  will  climb  on  their  vessels  with 

Many  a  daring,  doughty,  unflinching 

Sea-dog  and  viking,  and  seek  for  the  beautiful, 

Wide-famous,  winsome,  well-loved,  down-trodden 

Island  of  Albion.     Not  any  of  foemen 

Ever  hath  daunted  us.     On  all  the  waters 

We  have  stretched   under    heaven    our   standards   and 

banners. 

The  ocean  is  ours  ;  the  isles  of  the  sea 
Bow  to  our  bidding  and  bring  us  their  treasure 
Of  grain  and  of  gold.     Gleeful,  fearless, 
We  ride  on  the  rivers,  racing  and  chasing 
The  fleets  of  the  foe.     Fare  ye  then  homeward, 
Back  to  dear  Albion  ;  bid  them  to  turn  their 
Eyes  to  the  eastward."     Off  then  they  hastened 
Forth  on  the  flood-ways,  far  to  the  westward, 
Hying  them  home.     The  harp's  sweet  music 
They  heard  on  the  air.     The  earls  of  the  Anglians, 
Their  cups  draining,  drank  as  they  hearkened  : 
Sweet  was  the  song  ;  sang  then  the  harper 
Gladly  his  gleesongs,  gave  forth  his  music 
Proudly,  exultantly.     His  praise  lavished  he, 
Singing  the  story  of  the  exceeding  glory 


IO  Old  English  Idyls. 

Of  earlmen  of  old,  athelings,  mighty  ones, 

Sons  of  the  gods,  scions  of  Woden  ; 

Urged  the  brave  earlmen  ever  to  mind  them 

From  whence  sprang  they ;  sped  them  on  their  journey, 

Urged  them  to  Albion,  isle  of  the  sea-foam, 

Land  all  lovely  with  leaves,  blossoms, 

Forests  and  flowers,  fairest  and  winsomest 

Island  that  ocean  ever  embraceth, 

Bountiful,  beauteous  ;  bade  them  possess  it. 


II. 

THE    LANDING    OF    HENGIST    AND    HORSA. 

EARLY  thereafter,  earlmen  of  Anglia, 

With  Hengist  and  Horsa,  heroes  distinguished  and 

Leaders  beloved,  leaped  in  their  fast-chasing, 

Stout-builded,  sturdy  steeds  of  the  water-ways, 

On  the  seas  clomb  then,  to  seek  for  the  far-away, 

Wide-famed,  sea-girt,  water-encircled 

Island  of  Albion,  most  excellent  land 

The  sun  ever  smiled  on.  --In  song  and  in  legend 

Of  the  folk  of  the  east,  't  was  often  recited 

(The  heroes  had  heard  it),  how  hardy,  brave-mooded 

Men  of  the  mainland  once  mounted  the  ocean, 

The  storm-troubled  sea,  that  stretched  to  the  westward, 

And  sailed  o'er  the  currents,  till  they  came  to  a  land  of 

Fruits  and  of  flowers  and  foliage  so  green 

As  never  was  seen,  whither  Saxon  rovers 

Thronged  in  thousands,  thinking  to  capture 

That  land  so  lovely.  --  Light-hearted,  glad  were 

The  henchmen  of  Hengist  ;  high  their  glee  was, 

Merry  their  mood  :  men  do  not  know  what 

Wyrd  await eth  them.     Wassail  and  song 

Rose  to  the  welkin.     There  rode,  then,  at  anchor 

Close  by  the  cliff-edge,  keels  for  the  journey, 

Three  of  them  lovely :  lay  they  well  fastened  there 


12.  Old  English  Idyls. 

Safe  by  the  sea-shore,  with  sails  fluttering 

Broad  on  the  breezes  that  blew  o'er  the  ocean, 

The  realm  of  the  oar.     The  excellent  vessels  were 

Eager  and  anxious  to  be  off  on  adventure, 

Longingly  looked  tow'rd  the  lands  of  the  west, 

Thirsted  for  glory.     Thanemen  of  Hengist 

From  afar  and  an  ear  knew  of  the  journey, 

To  the  coast  came  then  ;  craving  for  glory, 

Begged  he  would  grant  them  to  go  on  the  far-famed, 

Daring  and  venturesome  voyage,  to  bear  their 

Aid  unto  Albion  :   earls  of  that  day  were  all 

Eager  for  honor.     Off  by  the  shore,  then, 

The  birds  of  the  billows  blithely  awaited  the 

Heroes'  behest ;  in  harbor  all  ready  were 

The  keels  at  the  coast.    There  clomb  to  the  prow,  then, 

High-mood ed,  happy  henchmen  and  kinsmen 

Of  Hengist  and  Horsa.     Hundreds  of  earlmen 

To  the  shore  thronged,  then,  each  thinking-  that,  haply, 

'T  was  he  that  would  have  the  high  and  distinguished 

Honor  and  glory  of  going  that  daring  and 

Venturesome  voyage.     The  vessels  lay  ready, 

Foam-throated  floaters.      Fair-haired,  eagle-eyed 

Heroes  of  Anglia  were  happy  and  glee-hearted, 

Lifting  their  lances,  laughing,  shouting, 

Wished  for  the  wind  to  waft  them  to  Albion's 

Beautiful  shores.     Bountiful  treasures, 

Richest  of  ring-mails,  rings  and  jewels  and 

Collars  and  corselet  with  carving  embellished 

By  armorer's  art  —  all  quickly  were 

Laid  on  the  vessel,  loveliest  of  gifts  for  the 


The  Landing  of  Hengist  and  Horsa.       13 

King  of  the  Kentmen.     The  customs  they  knew 
Of  earls  of  that  era.     Not  ever  was  told  me 
Of  gifts  that  were  greater :  good  were  the  heroes  !  - 
They  sailed  seaward  then  ;  saw  in  the  distance 
The  fairest  of  fatherlands,  fond-loved  country, 
Home  of  good  heroes.  - —  High  on  his  courser, 
The  guard  of  the  strand  stood  on  his  watch  and 
Gazed  out  to  seaward,  saw  his  dear  comrades 
Sail  out  on  the  ocean,  off  on  the  fathomless 
Home  of  the  whale  :  his  heart  wavered  then 
'Twixt  sorrow  and  joy.     He  rejoiced  in  glory  and 
Augured  them  fame  ;  but  he  feared  that  his  clear  ones 
Were  leaving  beloved  land-folk  and  kindred 
Forever  behind  them,  on  endless  adventure, 
To  meet  them  no  more.     Yet,  mindful  of  honor, 
Loudly  he  shouted  :  "  Lords  of  the  Anglians, 
Hengist  and  Horsa ;  hail,  ye  distinguished 
Earls  of  the  ocean.     To  all  and  some  of  you 
My  greeting  I  give,  gladly  saluting  you, 
Wishing  you  well.     Wend  on  your  journey, 
The  gods  watch  over  you.     Odin  and  Frea 
Keep  you  and  care  for  you  coming  and  going, 
Where'er  on  the  ocean  ye  earlmen  may  venture. 
May  Njord  graciously  grant  you  his  aid  o'er 
The  throng  of  the  waters.     Thor  the  Hammerer 
And  Baldur  the  Beautiful  bless  you  and  keep  you 
Fighting  for  fame.     Farewell,  ye  heroes : 
Hasten  ye  hitherward  home  to  your  fatherland, 
Laden  with  lustre."     Then,  lightly  and  sprightly, 
The  foamy-necked  barks  fanned  by  the  breezes, 


14  Old  English  Idyls. 

Likest  to  birds  bosomed  the  waters, 

Coursing  the  currents,  keels  of  the  dauntless, 

Famous,  fearless,  far-sailing  heroes, 

Encircled  with  speed.     The  sea-boats  glided, 

Barks  of  the  vikings,  bounded  the  mere-ways, 

The  fields  of  the  flood.     Fain,  glad-mooded, 

Hengist  the  high-hearted  hero  and  leader, 

Stood  by  the  steersman  that  sturdily  guided  the 

Rein-deer  of  breezes  as  she  ran  through  the  water-streets 

Over  to  Albion.     The  Anglian  leader,  then, 

Eagerly  asked  as  to  all  of  the  beauteous, 

Delightsome  lands  that  lay  in  his  vision 

Afar  and  anear,  northward,  southward, 

Eastward  and  westward  ;  anxiously  waited  he 

And  hoped  for  his  haven,  as  hied  the  good  vessel, 

The  deer  of  the  surf,  southward,  westward, 

To  Albion,  the  fair  and  ever-beloved 

Land  of  great  heroes.  --  High  on  his  seat,  then, 

The  steersman  espied  a  storm  to  the  northward ; 

Ocean  was  angry  ;  the  oarsmen  fearless, 

Sons  of  the  sea.     Soon  were  the  vessels 

Embraced  by  the  billows,  the  birds  of  the  ocean 

Clutched  by  the  currents.     The  cordage  creaked, 

The  chains  rattled,  chattered  and  clattered, 

The  good  ships  groaned,  grewsomely  moaned. 

Blustering  blasts  blew  from  the  northward, 

Eager  and  icy  :  /  have  heard  never 

That  so  fierce  and  frightful  and  frantic  a  storm  e'er 

So  rushed  in  its  rage  and  raved  o'er  the  sea-deeps 

Icicle-laden.  —  The  earlmen  were  merry, 


The  Landing  of  Hengist  and  Horsa.       15 

And,  shaking  their  shields,  shouted  so  loud  that 

The  terrible  roar  of  the  tempest  was  more 

Than    drowned    in    the    sound.  -  -  The    sea-ways    were 

troubled, 

Rocking  and  roaring  ;  no  rest  had  the  vessels  ; 
The  tackling  crackled,  as  timbers  and  beams  were 
Mashing  and  crashing.     The  men  of  the  Anglians 
Wished  but  weened  not  the  well-loved  ships  could 
Bear  them  to  Albion.     Then  brightened  the  heavens, 
The  sun  from  the  southward  soon  in  the  welkin 
Lavished  his  luminous  lustre  and  splendor 
O'er  land-folk  and  races,  lovely,  brilliant 
Candle  of  heaven.     O'er  the  cup  of  the  waves,  then, 
The  swans  of  the  sea  swam  on  the  billows, 
Southward  and  westward,  till  soon  in  the  distance  the 
Earls  of  the  Anglians  not  aught  could  behold  of 
The  land  where  their  loved  ones  long  o'er  the  waters, 
Yearning  to  meet  them,  waited  to  greet  them  ; 
No  more  saw  then  the  sweetest  of  countries 
That  ocean  doth  ever  ardently  woo  to  his 
Blustering  embraces.     The  battle-brave  earls 
Saw  in  the  distance  southward  and  eastward, 
Far  o'er  the  sea,  Saxon  and  Angle-land, 
Cradle  of  heroes,  and  the  cloud-capped  shores 
Where  the  free  Frisians,  famed  'mid  the  races, 
Have  with  locks  unshorn  lived  through  the  ages, 
Bending  their  necks  to  none  under  heaven, 
Kingliest  of  kins.     They  came  on  their  journey 
Where  Eider  and  Elbe  and  Ems  and  Weser, 
Dear-loved  waters,  wind  to  the  ocean, 


1 6  Old  English  Idyls. 

And  beauteous  Rhine,  river  of  heroes, 

Flashing  and  splashing  foams  to  the  northward 

Seeking  the  sea.     Then  sailing  westward,  they 

Early  anon  drew  nigh  to  the  beautiful, 

Longed-for,  lovely  land  they  had  dreamed  of 

On  their  way  o'er  the  waters,  winsome,  peerless 

Isle  of  the  ocean,  ever-beloved 

Land  of  the  leal.     Live  forever,  thou 

Beauteous  Albion,  bride  of  the  waters, 

Fairest  of  fatherlands  !      Fondly,  lovingly, 

Sing  we  thy  praises,  precious  and  world-honored 

Land  of  our  fathers.  —  The  foam-covered  vessels 

Came  to  the  coast,  the  keels  speedily 

Borne  by  the  breezes,  birds  of  the  water-ways 

Flying  afar.     Folk  of  the  island,  then, 

Gladly  greeted  them,  giving  them  welcome  as 

Friends  that  the  Father  had  found  them  and  brought  them 

To  fight  with  the  foeman.     Few  of  them  wist,  then, 

How  Wyrd  the  weaver  wove  at  her  spindle 

Of  good  or  of  ill  for  all  men  and  races 

That  dwell  on  the  earth,  as  ever  she  must  do, 

Goddess  supreme.  —  Proudly  equipped 

The  men  of  the  ocean  were  eager  to  step  then 

Off  the  dear  barks  that  had  brought  them  to  Albion's 

Shores  they  had  longed  for.     Their  lances  did  shimmer, 

Their  bills  and  burnies  brightly  did  glimmer 

And  glisten  resplendent ;  sparkling,  flashing, 

Jewels  were  bright  in  the  battle-true,  sturdy 

Brands  of  the  heroes.     The  barks  of  the  troopers, 

Well-loved  vessels,  went  shoreward  then, 


The  Landing  of  Hcngist  and  Horsa.       17 

Grinding  the  gravel.     Glad  were  the  sea-boats 

To  lie  by  the  land  they  long  had  been  seeking  for 

O'er  ocean's  angry  eddies  and  currents 

That  had  dashed   them   and   lashed   them.     Then   the 

daring,  intrepid 

Earls  of  the  Angles  eagerly  hastened  to 
Leap  to  the  land,  longed  to  possess  the 
Loveliest  of  isles  that  ocean  claspeth 
In  his  big  embraces,  most  beauteous  of  places 
In  the  wash  of  the  waters.  —  Well  they  remembered 
The  rings,  jewels  and  richest  of  burnies, 
Collars,  corselets,  with  carving  embellished, 
They  had  laid  on  the  ship  as  likest  to  please  the 
King  of  the  Kentmen.     With  care  lifted  they 
The  bountiful  treasure.  —  So  the  troopers  all  ready 
Stood  on  the  strand  :  the  strangers  were  eager  to 
March  on  their  mission.     Men  of  the  island, 
Folk  of  the  Kentmen,  came  then  to  meet  them 
And  gladly  did  greet  them,  gratefully  hailing  the 
Fond-loved  heroes  that  feared  not  to  bring  them 
Aid  o'er  the  ocean,  early  did  hie  then 
To  bind  the  dear  barks  that  brought  them  to  Albion, 
Where  Wantsum's  waters,  washing  and  swashing 
Shingled  the  shore.     The  ships  quickly  were 
Bound  with  their  ropes  and  rocked  on  the  billows  ; 
The  beautiful-bosomed  birds  of  the  ocean 
Quietly  lay  in  the  long-sought,  well-earned 
Nests  they  had  flown  to.     Fain,  Anglians 
Would  look  for  the  king ;  called  for  the  gleeman  to 
Sweep  o'er  his  strings  and  sing  them  the  glories 


1 8  Old  English  Idyls. 

Of  their  fathers  before  them,  folk-leaders  mighty, 

And  lays  of  the  land  they  had  left  far  behind  them  when 

Hither  they  hastened.     The  harp  resounded 

With  music  and  melody.     Mightily  shouted 

The  exultant,  triumphant  earls  of  the  ocean, 

Sons  of  the  sea ;  they  sang  with  the  gleeman  of 

The  doughty  and  daring  deeds  wrought  by  their 

Fathers  of  old,  earth-famed,  distinguished 

Founders  of  freedom  and  folk-builders  mightiest 

Known  of  the  nations.     Anon,  the  joyous 

Shaft  and  the  shield  shared  in  the  merriment, 

Clanging  and  clanking  and  clashing  and  crashing, 

Well-loved  weapons.     War-thanes,  liegemen 

Of  Hengist  and  Horsa  hied  them  to  Vortigern, 

Lord  of  the  land,  liegelord  of  Albion  ; 

The  troopers  did  tramp,  treading  measuredly, 

Sought  for  the  king  :  the  sweetest  of  melodies 

Wound  to  the  welkin,  winsomest  of  music 

'Neath  the  hand  of  the  harper.  —  High  on  the  dais  then, 

The  lord  of  the  Kentmen  saluted  the  brave-hearted 

Heroes  and  vikings  :  "  Hail !  ye  distinguished 

Men  of  the  mainland,  mighty,  eminent 

Folk-leaders  famed.     Foemen  implacable 

Are  cruelly  harrying,  killing  and  slaying  us  ; 

Men  of  the  Picts  painted,  horrible, 

Grisly  and  grim,  ghastly  destroyers, 

Swoop  from  the  northward  sacking  and  burning  our 

Hedges  and  homesteads,  heedless  of  pity  and 

Fierce-mooded,  fell ;  and,  from  far  o'er  the  waters, 

Men  of  the  Scots,  mighty  and  scatheful  and 


The  Landing  of  Hengist  and  Horsa.       19 

Cruel  and  venomous,  are  coming  in  hordes 

To  grind  us  to  powder.     Great-hearted  heroes, 

If  ye  came  o'er  the  ocean  to  aid  us  in  driving 

And  beating  these  demons  back  to  their  dens  in  the 

North  and  the  west,  I  know  it  will  happen 

That  forever  and  ever  earthmen  shall  honor  you 

And  gleeman  and  minstrel  remember  your  deeds  in  their 

Legend  and  story."      Strided  then  Hengist 

Up  to  the  dais  ;  angrily,  hurriedly 

Cried  to  the  king :  "  We  came  o'er  the  ocean, 

Asking  not  honor  :  the  island  of  Thanet 

Is  the  loveliest  of  lands  that  lie  in  the  billows  and 

Are  washed  by  the  waters,  well-loved  island, 

Dearest  of  places.     Promise  us  this 

To  have  and  to  hold  as  a  homestead  forever 

For  us  and  our  heirs,  if  we  aid  you  in  driving  these 

Demons  and  devils  to  their  dens  in  the  northland  and 

West  o'er  the  waters."     "Well  hast  thou  spoken, 

Hengist  the  Saxon  ;  so  shall  be  it  then, 

High-mooded  heroes."     The  hall  resounded 

With  gladness  and  glee  ;  gifts  were  abundant  and 

Beer  was  not  bitter ;  bowls  overflowing  were 

Lifted  aloft ;  and  the  lord  of  the  Kentmen 

In  the  brimming  bumper  buried  the  sorrow  that 

The  wrath  of  the  hero-chief  wrought  in  his  soul-deeps. 


III. 

THE    LADY    ROWENA. 

FEW  were  the  months  ere  foes  numberless 

As  the  seashore's  sands  savagely  harassed 

The  king  of  the  Kentmen.     The  cruel,  blood-thirsty 

Men  of  the  Picts  minded  but  little,  then, 

Foes  from  the  northland,  how  the  fair-haired,  dauntless 

Earlmen  of  Anglia  ever  intrepidly 

Hewed  them  with  edges,  aiding  the  Kentmen, 

But  hied  southwardly,  ceased  not  their  ravenous 

Sacking  and  hacking.      Soon  was  it  told  to  the 

Woe-begone  king,  the  womanish,  white-livered 

Liegelord  of  Albion,  that  his  earlmen  and  vassals, 

Scorning  him  bitterly,  would  bring  them  a  king 

From  the  southward  and  westward,  a  war-mooded  leader 

Who  dauntless  and  doughty  would  drive  him  away 

From  kingdom  and  country.     He  called  terror-struck 

(His  heart  was  so  heavy)  for  Hengist,  far-famous 

Earl  of  the  Angles,  urged  him  to  help  them 

As  erst  he  had  done,  eagerly  promised 

To  give  and  to  grant  him  gifts  abundantly, 

All  he  might  ask  of  him.     East  o'er  the  waters, 

O'er  the  surging,  seething,  sea-currents  foaming, 

Sent,  then,  Hengist  for  Saxons  and  Angles 

And  Jutemen  and  Frisians,  folk  of  the  mainland, 


The  Lady  Rowena.  21 

Most  venturous-mooded  of  vikings  and  pirates 

That  sailed  o'er  the  sea-deeps  :  soon,  messengers 

Reached  the  brave  races.     Readily,  eagerly, 

Heard  the  good  heroes  that  Hengist  had  bidden  them 

Come  o'er  the  waters  ;  and  there  came  then  rejoicing 

Earls  of  the  east  eager  for  glory 

And  thirsting  for  fame.     Far  o'er  the  waters, 

O'er  the  waves  westward,  winds  from  the  northward 

Fanned  then  their  foam-throated,  far-dashing  vessels 

O'er  the  curve  of  the  currents  :  the  cliffs  and  headlands 

Of  beautiful  Albion  beckoned  them  onward 

Far  o'er  the  flood-deeps.     Fond-loving  comrades 

Of  the  good  days  of  old,  eager  to  meet  them, 

Hied  then  to  greet  them  :  hearth-companions, 

Kinsmen  and  brethren,  came  then  joyfully, 

Blithely  embraced  them,  and  bade  them  to  tell  of 

The  land  and  loved  ones  left  o'er  the  waters 

Far  to  the  northward  ;  of  friends,  kindred 

And  own  dear  fatherland  fondly  inquired  they, 

Asked  then  eagerly,  earlman  of  earlman, 

One  of  the  other.  —  Early  anon, 

They  bound  to  the  shore  the  barks  of  the  athelings 

Eighteen  beautiful  birds  of  the  water 

Close  by  the  coast,  cabled  them  tightly, 

Fastened  them  firmly,  lest  the  flood  of  the  tide 

Should  sweep  out  to  seaward  the  swans  of  the  ocean, 

Or  the  shattering  shoals  should  shiver  and  crush  the 

Barks  that  had  brought  their  brethren  and  comrades 

Safe  o'er  the  sea-deeps.  —  Sweetest  to  Hengist 

Of  all  that  had  come  o'er  the  cup  of  the  billows, 


22  Old  English  Idyls. 

O'er  the  mingling  of  waters,  westward  and  southward, 

Was  the  lady  Rowena,  the  lovely,  beautiful, 

Gem-brilliant  maiden,  jewel  and  darling 

Of  Hengist  the  hero :  the  harp  and  the  gleeman 

Have  sung  for  ages  the  elf-bright  folk-maiden's 

Beauty  and  loveliness.     Broad  her  renown  is  ; 

Forever  and  ever  England  shall  honor  her 

As  first  of  her  fair-haired,  fond-loved  myriads 

Of  beautiful  maidens,  mothers  and  daughters 

And  sisters  of  heroes :  the  sweet-toned  harp, 

Joy-wood  beloved,  long  shall  continue 

To  sing  her  glory  in  saga  and  story, 

Lovely,  illustrious  lady  Rowena, 

Leading  the  line  of  beloved,  winsome 

Women  of  England,  elf-brightest,  purest 

Of  mothers  and  maidens  that  men  ever  sought  for 

Or  earls  ever  fought  for ;  then  ever-beloved 

Hilda  the  holy,  handmaid  of  Heaven, 

Eminent  virgin  ;  Ethelfleda 

Lady  of  Mercia,  mighty,  fearless, 

Queenly,  kingly,  conquering  heroine, 

Sister  and  daughter  and  darling  of  heroes 

And  known  of  all  England ;  the  excellent  folk-lady, 

Godiva  the  gracious,  glory-encircled 

And  honored  forever,  who,  to  aid  her  dear  liegemen, 

With  body  all  bare  (but  her  bountiful  hair 

As  a  robe  fell  around  her)  rode  through  the  borough, 

While  her  leal,  true-hearted  troopers  and  thanemen 

Hid  in  their  houses  with  hearts  that  were  thankful, 

Shunning  to  shame  her  ;  the  sheen-bright  twain 


The  Lady  Rowena.  23 

Edith  entitled,  each  famous  in 

Legend  and  lay  of  lands  numberless, 

High-hearted,  sweet-mooded,  song-famous  maidens, 

Honored  of  England.     Not  e'er  hath  been  told  me 

Of  any  more  goodly  and  gracious  in  spirit, 

More  eminent  folk-queen,  than  Edith  the  gold-adorned 

Peace-weaver  pure,  who  passed  the  wild-dashing 

Ocean-ways  angry  to  Otto  the  mighty's 

Spacious  dominions,  splendid  and  far-famed, 

Where,  gleaming  with  jewels,  the  gem-brilliant  maiden, 

Sweetest  of  virgins,  sister  of  Athelstan, 

Was  Otto  the  atheling's  honored,  distinguished, 

Dear-loved  wife,  till  death  departed  them, 

Till  she  laid  down  her  life-joys.     Then  the  Lord's  dear 

virgin, 

Edith  the  pure,  angel-white,  holy 
Handmaid  of  Heaven,  whose  heart  in  her  childhood 
Turned  from  the  tawdry  trifles  and  honors 
Of  rank  and  of  riches,  resting,  abiding 
In  God  and  His  glory  ;  gladly  forsaking 
The  wealth  and  the  worship  of  a  well-loved  daughter 
Of  an  earthly  king,  to  earn  the  proud  title 
Of  a  child  of  God,  great,  almighty 
Ruler  of  heaven.  —  Hengist  discoursed,  then  ; 
The  crafty,  cunning,  clever  war-hero, 
Earl  of  the  Anglians,  opened  his  word-treasure, 
Spake  to  the  king  then  :  "  Come  now,  I  beg  thee, 
Lord  of  the  Kentmen  ;  look  with  thine  eyes  on  the 
Beauteous  buildings  and  brave  liegemen-thanes 
Of  Hengist  and  Horsa.     High  heavenward 


24  Old  English  Idyls. 

We  have  builded  a  beauteous  beer-hall  and  palace, 

Of  halls  handsomest  heroes  e'er  revel  in, 

Splendid,  spacious,  sparkling  with  rarest 

Jewels  and  gems,  joy-hall  of  heroes  ; 

Come  thou  and  see  it."     Soon,  then,  Vortigern, 

Folk-lord  of  Albion,  fared  with  the  hero 

O'er  the  waters  of  Wantsum  to  the  wassailing-building, 

Mead-hall  resplendent :  men  of  that  era 

Not  ever  had  seen,  nor  even  had  heard  of 

Hall-building  grander.     Glad  was  Hengist, 

The  artful  and  eager  earl  of  the  mainland 

Was  merry  in  mood,  then  ;  he  minded  to  win  him 

No  little  of  land  from  the  lecherous,  treacherous 

King  of  the  Kentmen.     The  clever,  eagle-eyed 

Earlmen  of  Thanet,  thanemen  of  Hengist, 

Watched  the  two  folk-lords  ;  well  might  they  reckon 

That  Hengist  and  Horsa  and  heroes  that  gladly 

Served  them  as  liegemen  not  long  would  content  them 

With  land  on  the  island  out  in  the  waters, 

But  early  would  ask  for  acres  unnumbered 

And  Kent  as  a  kingdom.     Came,  then,  the  twain, 

Hengist  and  Vortigern,  the  hall-building  seeking, 

Joy  of  the  Jutemen.     Jewel-bedighted, 

Gold-adorned,  gleaming,  the  glorious  building, 

Hall  of  good  heroes,  high  in  the  ether  rose 

Spacious  and  splendid,  sparkling,  glimmering 

Wide  o'er  the  water-ways.     Well  't  was  builded, 

Fastened  most  firmly.     Folk  of  that  era 

Not  e'er  had  beheld,  not  ever  had  heard  of 

Building  so  beautiful,  beer-hall  and  palace 


The  Lady  Roweua.  25 

So  high  under  heaven.     Hugely  't  was  fashioned  ; 

Sturdy  and  stout  it  stood  in  the  borough 

Delightsome  to  liegemen  ;  late  and  early  the 

Thanemen  of  Thanet  thither  did  hie  them 

For  gifts  and  for  glee.     Glad,  bright-hearted, 

Feasted  the  earlmen  :  ale-vessels  clattered, 

Beer  was  abundant  ;  blithe  were  the  heroes, 

Sorrow  they  knew  not.  —  Ne'er  had  Vortigern 

In  all  of  Albion,  in  east  or  in  west, 

In  north  or  in  south,  seen  or  heard  tell  of 

Mead-hall  so  mighty.     The  muscle  and  skill 

And  brawn  of  great  builders  had  bravely,  stoutly 

Fashioned  and  finished  it,  fairest,  strongest  of 

Halls  under  heaven.     Hengist  and  Vortigern 

Entered  then  in  ;  up  on  the  dais 

Side  by  side,  then,  sat  the  two  folk-lords, 

Land-rulers  friendly.     Faithful  they  yet  were 

Each  to  the  other  :  what  after  should  happen 

Only  Wyrd  the  wise  wist  in  her  counsels ; 

She  told  it  to  none.     Troopers  of  Hengist, 

Dearest  of  hearth-friends,  hastened  to  benchward : 

Lief  and  loyal  liegemen  and  vassals 

Of  the  far-famed,  eminent  folk-lord  of  Thanet 

Bent  to  the  benches  ;  beakers  clanged,  then, 

Platters  clattered,  crackled  and  rattled, 

The  hall  resounded  ;  heroes  a-laughing 

Drained,  then,  their  beakers.      Boastingly,  Hengist, 

Lord  of  the  island,  opened  his  word-hoard, 

Spake  after  custom  :  "  Kinsmen,  liegemen, 

Thanemen  of  Thanet,  thanks  offer  I 


26  Old  English  Idyls. 

Odin  and  Thor  for  all  they  have  granted 
Me  and  the  heroes  that  hither  followed  me 
O'er  the  waves  westward.     Well  I  remember 
The  days  of  my  youth :  no  younker  on  earth  was 
More  daring  and  doughty.     Down  from  the  north 
O'er  the  seas  sailed  I  southward,  westward, 
Greedy  of  glory  ;  greatly  I  thirsted 
For  fame  'mid  the  races.     My  father  gave  me  then 
Homeralaf,  handsome,  splendid  old 
Ring-sword  radiant,  richest  of  weapons, 
Hugest  and  heaviest  of  hand- works  of  giants 
Of  ages  of  yore.     I  easily  brandished  it, 
Fame-deeds  performing,  fought  as  a  hero  in 
Many  a  far-land.     Men  of  the  southland 
Often  did  seek  to  seize,  grapple  my 
Far-famous  weapon  :  I  fiercely  resisted  them, 
And  dealt  them  their  death-blows.     I  dared  as  a  strip 
ling  on 

Countless  adventures.     Vortigern,  the  Kentman, 
Heard  of  my  fame  in  his  far-away  island 
Off  in  the  ocean :  the  excellent  folk-lord 
Was  glad  when  he  saw  me  sail  to  his  land 
To  fight  with  his  foemen.    I  have  fought  with  the  dreaded, 
Hated  and  horrible  hordes  that  are  pouring  in 
Down  from  the  north,  the  numberless,  slumberless, 
Pitiless  Picts,  painted  demon-like, 
And  the  merciless  Scots  :  we  merrily  scattered  them 
Back  to  their  caverns.     I  carved,  slivered  them 
With  Homeralaf :  he  helped  me  cheerfully, 
Brave-hearted  battle-sword."     The  boasting  of  Hengist 


The  Lady  Rowena.  27 

Pleased  the  good  earlmen  ;  exultingly  laughed  they, 

Their  shields  shaking,  shouted  sonorously ; 

They  loved  the  good  leader  who  had  led  them  to  battle 

O'er  land  and  o'er  sea,  and  said  to  each  other 

That  neither  south  nor  north,  in  the  circuit  of  waters, 

Was  there  better  or  braver  battle-folk  leader 

Than  Hengist,  earth-famous  ocean-king,  land-chief, 

Ruler  of  races.     I  rarely  have  heard  of 

Gifts  goodlier  given  by  liegelord 

To  excellent  earlmen  'neath  arch  of  the  heavens 

Than  Hengist  the  good  one  gave  to  his  earls  in  the 

Banqueting-building.     The  bountiful  liegelord, 

Mighty  men-ruler,  commanded  his  thanes,  then, 

Jewels  to  fetch  there,  gems  in  abundance, 

The  red-gold  ring,  the  radiant,  glittering 

Collar  and  bracelet ;  and  for  battle-equipments 

The  burnished  and  beautiful  byrnie  and  helmet 

And  chased-handle  chain-sword,  choicest  of  weapons. 

Fain  and  freely,  the  folk-lord  of  Thanet 

Lavished  his  gifts  on  liegemen  and  kinsmen 

With  abundance  of  bounty :  the  brave-hearted  earl  was 

Beloved  of  his  thanemen:     The  lord  of  the  Kentmen 

Was  meetly  remembered,  as  men  of  that  day  were 

Mindful  of  etiquette.     The  island-chief  bade  them, 

Brave  battle-leader,  bear  to  king  Vortigern 

The  gold-twisted  torque  he  had  torn  from  the  neck  of  a 

Prince  of  the  Picts  that  he  pierced  in  the  battle 

And  slivered  in  slices.     Soon,  the  bright-gleaming, 

Radiant,  wreathed,  rich-carved  jewel 

His  neck  encircled  :  serpents  of  gold 


28  Old  English  Idyls. 

Clasped  the  bright  collar.  —  Then  the  queenly  Rowena 

Entered  the  building :  the  elf-lovely  maiden 

Glittered  and  glimmered  with  gold-work  resplendent 

And  rings  the  richest,  and  her  robe  sparkled  with 

Gems  and  jewels.     Joyously,  hero-thanes 

Marked  the  dear  maiden,  as,  mindful  of  etiquette, 

On  to  the  dais  the  daughter  of  Hengist 

Stately  proceeded,  stood  near  her  father, 

Dearest  of  daughters.     The  decorous-mooded, 

Beautiful  virgin  bore  in  her  hand,  then, 

The  choicest  of  chalices,  chased,  embellished 

With  gravings  of  gold,  goodly  and  precious 

Heirloom  of  ages,  all  over  engraven  with 

Writings  of  rune,  radiant,  sheen-bright 

Ale-cup  of  old.     The  excellent  maiden, 

Most  lovely  of  ladies,  her  lip-treasure  opened, 

Spake  with  decorum  :  "  Quaff  this  beaker, 

Leader  beloved,  liegelord,  chieftain 

Of  battle-thanes  brave.     Be  thou  forever 

Honored  of  earthmen  while  ocean  surroundeth 

The  blustering  bluffs."     The  beaker  he  took,  then, 

Far-famous  hero,  held  to  his  lips 

And  lustily  drank  of  the  luscious  and  mellow, 

Honey-sweet  liquor ;  handed  the  bumper,  then, 

Back  to  the  maiden,  the  mead-cup  of  heroes 

Again  to  the  gold-adorned,  gracious,  beloved 

Lady  Rowena.     Went  she,  anon, 

Where  the  excellent-mooded  earlmen  of  Hengist, 

Kinsmen-comrades,  were  quaffing  joyously 

Bumpers  and  beakers,  bare  the  bright  cup  to 


The  Lady  Rowena.  29 

All  the  dear  earlmen  elder  and  younger, 

Greater  and  lesser,  graciously  tendered  it 

To  one  and  to  all :  they  each  tasted,  then, 

Drank  of  the  mead-cup.     The  dear-loved  lady, 

Fair  maid  of  Anglia,  early  proceeded, 

Stately  advanced,  where  Vortigern  ogling  her 

Sat  on  the  dais,  said  to  the  folk- king, 

"Wes  hael,  O  King!  "  handed  the  cup  to 

The  liegelord  of  Albion  :  answered  the  Kentman, 

"Drinc  hael,  drinc  hael,"  and  heartily  drank  of 

The  luscious,  delicious,  liquor  of  heroes 

That  frothy  and  flaky  foamed  in  the  silvery, 

Beautiful  beaker.     The  bowl  quaffed  he, 

And  kissed  the  most  comely,  queenly  of  maidens, 

The  lovely,  illustrious  lady  Rowena, 

Would  fain  possess  the  fair-haired,  sweet-mouthed, 

Dear-loved  damsel,  daughter  of  Hengist, 

Not  long  to  delay  (he  little  remembered 

The  wife  he  was  wedded  to),  wished  not  to  tarry, 

Longed  for  the  lady,  lecherous,  treacherous 

Beast-king  of  Kentmen.     Crafty,  artful, 

Hengist  of  Anglia,  eagle-eyed  folk-leader, 

Laughed  in  his  spirit :  he  sped  well  in  the 

Snare  he  had  set  for  the  simple,  lecherous 

Lord  of  the  Kentmen.     He  looked  at  the  king,  then, 

Beer-fuddled,  simpering,,  saw  how  he  ogled  the 

Sweetest  of  maidens.     Said,  then,  Hengist 

Wihtgils's  son  (war-heroes  hearkened, 

Liegemen-thanes  listened) :  "  Lord  of  the  Kentmen, 

Good  king  Vortigern,  the  kissing  of  maidens 


30  Old  English  Idyls. 

Is  a  crime  in  the  lands  that  lie  o'er  the  waters, 

Off  to  the  east  of  you.     Earls  of  the  mainland 

Might  mulct  thee  heavily,  save  haply  the  honor 

Of  kissing  a  king  should  count  as  atoning 

For  lapse  in  the  law.     The  lady  Rowena 

Shall  early  be  off  to  her  own  dear  fatherland, 

Far  o'er  the  flood-deeps,  where  folk-law  shieldeth  her 

From  high  and  from  low."     Loud,  vehemently, 

The  king  of  the  Kentmen  cried,  then,  to  Hengist 

(Eager  his  love  was)  :  "  Earl  of  the  Saxons, 

Give  me  the  gracious,  goodly,  beautiful 

Rowena  to  wife  ;  and  I  well  will  requite  thee, 

Liegelord  of  Thanet.     There  are  left  me  a-many 

Other  good  islands  off  in  the  waters 

For  excellent  earlmen."     Answered,  then,  Hengist, 

Artful,  crafty  one :  "  Nay,  /  will  not  barter 

My  heart's  dear  jewel  for  hundreds  of  islands 

Off  in  the  waters.     My  word  hath  been  given 

A  prince  of  the  Frisians,  a  folk-lord  eminent, 

Who  hath  wished  her  to  wife  as  a  weaver-of-peace 

'Twixt  Frisians  and  Anglians.     My  honor  is  plighted, 

I  swore  on  my  sword."     So  spake  Hengist,  then, 

Most  artful  of  athelings  :  eager,  vehement 

Vortigern  cried  then  :  "  Kent  is  the  fairest 

Of  lands  under  heaven.     Let  the  dear  maiden, 

Gracious,  winsome,  gladden  and  cheer  me 

As  my  beauteous  bride,  and  I  blithely  will  grant  thee 

This  kingdom  and  country  to  keep  and  govern 

Forever  and  ever  :  aid  me  in  holding 

What  yet  shall  remain  to  me."     Yelled,  then,  Hengist 


The  Lady  Rowena.  31 

(The  guest-building  groaned) :  "  Good  is  the  promise, 

Take  care  that  thou  keep  it.     Kent,  then,  is  mine,  now, 

To  have  and  to  hold.     Haste  with  the  maiden 

West  over  Want  sum  :  my  word  hath  been  given, 

Freya  hath  heard  me.     I  will  help  thee  to  conquer 

Thy  fell-mooded  foemen."     Forth,  quickly  then 

Vortigern  led  the  virgin  beloved, 

The  peerless,  precious  princess  Rowena, 

Delayed  not  nor  lingered :  his  love  was  so  eager 

He  cared  not  for  kingdoms.     The  carles  of  the  Anglians 

Reveled  in  riot,  carousing,  shouting, 

Bellowed  like  oxen  while  bucklers  and  lances 

Were  banging  and  clanging.     A  brave  battle-thane 

Who  sat  at  the  feet  of  the  folk-lord  of  Thanet 

Held  in  his  hand  a  horn  brimming  with 

Earl- cheering  ale,  urged  the  dear  heroes 

To  hearken  and  hear  him  :  "  Health  to  the  mighty 

Odin  and  Thor  and  all  the  good  gods  that 

Help  the  brave  hero  ;  and  health,  wealth  to  the 

Great-grandson  of  Odin,  eminent,  far-famous 

Hengist  of  Kentland."     Cups,  bumpers  were 

Drained  to  the  drop.     They  drank  lustily, 

Shouting  gustily :  good  was  the  mead,  then, 

Heroes  were  happy.     The  harp's  sweet  music, 

Clear  song  of  the  singer,  swelled  to  the  welkin, 

Joy-wood  of  heroes.     A  henchman-minstrel, 

Gleeman  of  Hengist,  heartily  sounded  his 

Liegelord's  praises,  as  lightly  he  struck  the 

Sweetest  of  melodies.     The  mead-building  echoed 

With  mirth  and  with  music,  the  merry,  melodious 


32  Old  English  Idyls. 

Lay  of  the  gleeman.     Gladly  liegemen 

Heard  of  their  folk-lord's  far-famous,  mighty 

Deeds  of  renown  ;  how  his  name  was  dreaded 

In  all  earth-regions,  where  ocean  with  billows 

Washes  the  shingly  shores  and  the  edges 

Of  lands  without  number.     The  lord  of  the  Anglians, 

Hengist  the  hero,  his  harp-strings  touched,  then, 

Glee-wood  of  heroes  ;  gay-mooded  sang 

In  measure  and  melody.     The  merry,  glad-hearted 

Liegemen  of  Hengist  lifted  their  voices 

In  tumultuous  chime,  marking  the  rime 

With  clanging  and  clanking  and  clatter  of  lances, 

Brave-hearted  than  em  en.     Blithely  sang  he, 

The  giver  of  rings  gustily  chanted, 

Offspring  of  Odin,  eminent  folk-leader : 

"  Hail,  ye  good  heroes,  henchmen,  kinsmen, 

Liegemen  beloved  !     The  land  of  the  Kentmen 

Is  eager  to  greet  you  :  go  and  possess  it 

Forever  and  ever.     To  Odin  and  Thor 

And  all  the  good  gods  that  guided  us  hitherward, 

The  thanks  of  us  all  ever  be  rendered, 

Gods  of  the  northland  ;  but  glory  forever 

To  Homeralaf,  beloved,  faithful 

Heirloom  of  ages  :  /  will  e'er  give  him 

Thanks  and  praises,  for  he  proved  in  the  battle 

Most  mighty  of  helpers.     Hear  when  I  tell  you 

That  't  was  my  dear  sword  that  safely  hath  brought  us 

Through  thick  and  through  thin  :  thank  him  forever, 

Best  of  all  battle-swords."     The  banquet  was  over, 

Feasting  was  finished  :  folk-earls  of  Thanet 


The  Lady  Rowena.  33 

Hastened  then  homeward,  the  hall-building  left, 

Excellent  ale-hall.     They  early  were  ready 

To  cross  o'er  the  current,  where  Kent  in  the  westward, 

Of  lands  liefest,  longed  for  good  heroes 

To  earn  and  possess  her  and  ever  to  bless  her. 


IV. 

THE    DEATH    OF    HORSA. 

SIX-WINTERS'  time  had  the  sweet,  wavy-haired, 

Curly-locked  queen  of  Kent-land  and  Albion 

Delighted  her  lord,  lived  with  decorum 

As  wife  of  his  bosom.     War-mooded  men,  then, 

Hot-hearted  Kentmen,  harassed  the  spirit 

Of  Rowena  the  winsome,  well-loved,  far-famed 

Queen  of  the  Kentmen  ;  cruelly  vexed  her, 

Said  she  had  marred  the  metal  and  valor 

Of  the  king  of  the  Kentishmen  ;  counselling  Vortigern, 

Urged  that  the  excellent  earls  of  the  mainland, 

Hengist  and  Horsa  and  henchmen  unnumbered, 

Be  driven  away  to  their  wild,  desolate 

Dens  o'er  the  ocean.     Earls  of  the  Kentmen, 

Thanemen  of  Albion,  angrily  said 

That  the  men  of  the  Saxons  minded  to  seize  the 

Whole  of  Albion,  to  own  and  to  hold  it 

Forever  and  ever.     Oft,  liegemen-thanes, 

Vassals  of  Vortigern,  with  vehemence  cried  : 

"The  Scots  and  the  Picts,  scathers  and  foemen 

Loathsome,  horrible,  are  less  to  be  dreaded 

Than  the  artful,  eager,  ever-encroaching 

Sons  of  the  Saxons,  the  savage,  grasping 

Henchmen  of  Hengist,  who  hither  came  over 

34 


The  Death  of  Horsa.  35 

As  friends  and  defenders,  but  foully  have  proved  them 

Treacherous  traitors."     They  taunted  the  king, 

Said  that  he  loved  the  lady  Rowena's 

Outlandish  kin,  caring  but  little 

For  folk  of  his  own.     Early  anon,  then, 

They  chose  as  the  king  of  Kent-land  and  Albion 

The  atheling  Vortimer,  Vortigern's  son, 

Wolf  of  the  Kentmen.     Wild,  fierce-mooded, 

Hot-hearted,  cruel,  the  homes  of  the  Anglians 

He  ruthlessly  ravaged,  rashing  and  lashing 

The  liegemen  of  Hengist,  harried  them  fiercely, 

Hacking,  hewing  them,  hotly  pursuing  them, 

Proudest  of  princes  :  at  the  play  of  the  edges, 

The  meeting  of  spears,  he  spared  few  of  them, 

Doughtiest,  mightiest  man  of  that  kindred, 

Folk-leader  fearless.     Four  great  battles 

He  fought  with  the  foreigners  ;  would  fain  drive  them 

from 

Albion's  isle  and  east  o'er  the  flood-deeps, 
Back  to  the  lands  they  had  left  on  the  mainland, 
O'er  the  home  of  the  whale.     Horsa  was  doomed,  then, 
Though  brave  in  the  battle,  brother  of  Hengist ; 
He  had  lived  the  life-days'  limit  that  Wyrd, 
Spinster  of  fate,  had  spun  for  that  hero, 
Must  bow  in  the  battle.      Bloody  the  field  was, 
Of  fights  fiercest  :  the  flower  of  warriors 
Fighting  fell  foremost.     On  the  field  of  Aylesford, 
Was  bitterly  fought  the  fiercest  of  hand-fights 
The  earlmen  of  Vortimer  ever  did  wage  with 
Athelings  of  Anglia  :  then  exulted  the  raven  ; 


36  Old  English  Idyls. 

That  battle-grim  bird  was  blither  on  that  day 

Than  ever  before.     The  eagle  was  gladder, 

The  wolf  merrier  than  for  many  a  summer : 

On  the  slain  seized  they,  supping,  lapping 

The  blood  of  the  brave,  biting,  mouthing 

The  flesh  of  the  fallen.     The  field  of  Aylesford 

Reeked  with  the  blood  of  the  best  of  the  heroes, 

A  river  of  red ;  ruthless,  woful 

And  sudden  the  slaughter  of  sons  of  athelings, 

Bitter  the  battle.     Braver  heroes, 

Worthier  war-smiths,  ne'er  went  under  helmet 

The  foeman  to  face.      Far-famed  Hengist 

And  Horsa  his  brother  were  hot  for  the  battle, 

Woden's  great-grandsons  were  greedy  of  slaughter, 

Mighty,  raging,  were  racing  and  chasing 

Earlmen  of  Albion  ;  eager  for  conflict, 

The  excellent  athelings  would  unaided,  single 

On  the  field  find  then  a  folk-lord  of  Albion, 

Would  gash  him  and  slash  him,  slit  him  in  slivers, 

And  call  to  the  raven  to  come  to  the  revel 

With  the  wolf  of  the  forest.     Fierce-mooded  Horsa, 

Wihtgils's  son,  soon  grappled  with 

The  brave  Catigern,  brother  of  Vortimer, 

Prince  of  the  Kentmen.     Proudly  Horsa,  then, 

Sought  for  the  struggle,  said  defiantly 

Lifting  his  linden-shield  :  "  I  am  liegeman-kinsman 

Of  Hengist  the  hero ;  Horsa  my  name  is, 

As  well  thou  wottest.     Would  I  might  spare  thee 

The  swipe  of  my  sword  as  I  swing  it  in  battle : 

For  Rowena's  dear  sake  I  'd  willingly  grant  thee 


The  Death  of  Horsa.  37 

Thy  life-joys  longer."     Loudly  Catigern, 

His  shield  shaking,  shouted  to  Horsa : 

"  I  ask  thee  no  odds  ;  on  to  the  battle, 

Horsa  the  Saxon.     The  sons  of  Vortigern 

Have  sworn  by  their  sword-blades  to  sleep  not,  slumber 

not, 

Till  the  tricky,  treacherous  troopers  of  Hengist 
Are  out  on  the  ocean  and  off  to  their  far-away 
Cliffs  and  caverns.     Come  now  and  let  me 
Hurl  thee  to  hellward."     Horsa  stepped  forward, 
The  angry,  earnest  earl  of  the  Anglians 
Brooked  no  delay  :  bitter,  implacable, 
Frantic  his  mood  was.     Forward  he  stepped,  then, 
Hot  'neath  his  helmet.     High  o'er  his  visor 
The  boar-image  glistened  ;  the  good,  trusty 
Beast  of  the  battle  bravely  guarded  the 
Head  of  the  hero.     His  harness  did  sparkle, 
His  bright-shining  battle-sark  brilliantly  glittered  and 
Shone  with  its  sheen.     From  its  sheath  forth,  then, 
Flashed  Felalaf,  faithful,  dauntless 
Brand  of  the  hero,  hankered  for  battle, 
Was  eager  to  bite  through  the  bone  of  the  hateful 
Foeman  of  Horsa,  freely  would  drink  of 
The  blood  of  the  Welshman.     Brightly  glimmered  he, 
Old,  iron-made  heirloom  and  jewel 
Of  Wihtgils's  son,  sword  of  the  ancients, 
Handwork  of  giants.     The  hot-mooded,  fire-breathing 
Horsa  and  Catigern  clashed  in  the  battle, 
Lashing  and  slashing  with  sword-blades  that  rattled  ; 
Fierce  was  their  fury.     Fire,  then,  glimmered, 


119851 


38  Old  English  Idyls. 

Sword-sparks  bright  brilliantly  shimmered  ; 

Felalaf  s  eye  flashed  in  his  wrath,  then, 

Brave-hearted  battle-sword.     Bitterly  fought  the  two 

High-hearted  heroes ;  I  have  heard  never  of 

Earls  angrier,  eagerer  to  grapple 

Each  other  in  battle,  uncle  and  stepson 

Of  lady  Rowena  :  woe  was  her  spirit, 

Laughed  she  but  little,  when  she  learned  eftsoones 

Of  that  dreadful,  direful,  death-dealing  struggle 

'Twixt  Saxon  and  Celt  ;  herseemed  that  her  heart  would 

Burst  in  her  bosom.     Bold-mooded  Catigern 

Was  stout  striking  then,  stood  in  the  combat 

More  firmly  far  than  his  father  had  ever 

Told  him  or  taught  him,  turned  not  away 

To  flee  from  the  foeman,  foined  with  his  war-blade 

Eagerly,  angrily.     The  excellent  Horsa 

Asked  for  no  odds  ;  his  edges  mighty  were, 

Keen  were  his  cuts.     Catigern  had  perished, 

Liegeman  of  Vortimer,  alone  in  that  struggle, 

Had  not  Wyrd  the  wise  willed  and  determined 

That  both  of  the  brave  ones  should  bow  in  the  battle, 

Fall  on  the  field  :  folk-troops  and  races 

Bend  to  her  bidding.     The  bold  giants,  then, 

Together  did  grapple  ;  gory  the  field  was, 

Red  like  a  river.     Rapidly  whirled  they 

Blows  on  each  other  in  onset  of  battle  till 

The  brand  of  each  earlman  bit  through  his  foeman's 

Armor  of  iron  and  in  to  his  bone-house 

Dived  down  deeply,  drank  of  his  life-stream, 

Blood-thirsty  battle-blade.     Both  the  good  heroes 


The  Death  of  Horsa.  39 

Fell  to  the  earth,  then  ;  not  either  could  longer 

Live  in  his  life-joys,  must  lie  prone  there 

Shorn  of  his  war-strength,  sharing  no  more 

The  hall-glee  of  heroes,  hearing  no  longer 

The  song  of  the  singer  as  he  sang,  chanted 

Of  earlmen  of  old  :  off  on  their  journey 

Went  the  two  warriors.     Woful  of  mood, 

Sad,  heart-weary,  was  Hengist  the  atheling, 

When  he  learned  that  his  brother  was  biting  the  dust  and 

Lifeless  was  lying  low  on  the  battle-field, 

Parted  from  earth-joys.     The  prince  of  the  Anglians 

W^as  woful  of  spirit,  wide-famous  leader : 

He  bent  o'er  his  brother's  bloody,  lifeless 

Soul-house  forsaken,  said  mournfully 

In  rhythmical  measures,  lamenting  and  praising : 

"  Dead  is  Horsa,  my  dear-loved  brother, 

Eminent  atheling.     Not  e'er  under  heaven 

W7as  hero  more  hardy.     The  hand  is  now  lifeless 

That  erstwhile  did  aid  me  in  all  my  adventures 

Afar  and  anear.     There  was  never  faithfuler, 

Loyaler  liegeman,  liefest  of  comrades, 

True-hearted  counsellor,  trusty  adviser, 

Shoulder-companion.     We  played  in  our  boyhood 

As  fond-loving  brothers  in  the  far-away,  sea-girdled 

Land  of  our  fathers.     Alas  !  no  more 

Shall  the  hero  behold  it.      Let  henchmen  lovingly 

Lift  the  brave  earl  up  from  his  slaughter-bed : 

Let  the  bier  be  brought,  and  bear  him  from  henceward 

Off  to  his  burning ;  let  brave  ones  attend  him 

Hence  to  Valhalla.     Hither  summon  ye 


40  Old  English  Idyls. 

Harfeax  the  gleeman  to  rehearse  the  all-glorious 
Deeds  of  the  dead."     'Twas  done  as  he  bade  them  ; 
And  early  thereafter  the  excellent  minstrel, 
The  singer  of  Hengist,  sought  his  dear  liegelord, 
Saw  him  then  sadly  sobbing,  groaning, 
Mourning  and  moaning,  lamentingly  bewailing 
The  fall  of  his  famous,  fond-loved  brother, 
Hengist  for  Horsa.     His  heart  bitterly 
Ached  as  he  looked  at  the  beloved,  faithful 
Hero  and  leader,  as  he  lay  so  helpless, 
Lying  so  lifeless,  loosened  from  earth-joys, 
Reft  of  his  war-strength  :  I  wot  he  had  rarely 
So  slept  like  a  sluggard.     Sad-hearted,  mournful 
Was  the  thaneman-harper  ;  he  thought  tenderly 
Of  far-away  fatherland,  how  a  fair,  beautiful 
Boy  in  the  borough  was  brave,  yet  gentle, 
Meek  and  yet  manly.     Mourned  he  for  Horsa, 
Well-loved  warrior.     The  woe-mooded  scop, 
Harfeax,  the  heart-weary  harper  and  minstrel, 
Wakened  the  chords,  calling  forth  music 
Sad  yet  triumphant,  would  sing  the  story 
Of  Horsa  and  his  glory.     The  good  old  minstrel 
Touched  then  his  strings  with  tremulous,  quivering 
Fingers  that  faltered,  fondly  lamenting : 
"  Low  lies  Horsa,  beloved,  dauntless 
Offspring  of  Wihtgils,  my  excellent,  well-loved 
Liegelord  of  yore.     I  yet  can  remember 
Those  long-gone  days  in  the  land  of  my  fathers 
And  home  of  great  heroes.     Happy,  joyous 
Were  Wihtgils's  earlmen  ;  the  ale-building  mighty 


The  Death  of  Horsa.  41 

Was  thronged  with  thanemen  ;  thousands  of  jewels 

Glistened  and  glittered.     Good  was  the  liegelord, 

Niggardly  never.     It  is  known  of  all  races 

How  bairns  of  his  body  were  born  in  his  manor, 

Hengist  and  Horsa,  handsome,  beloved, 

Beautiful  boys.     Blessed  be  Odin 

That  /  was  ever  an  honored  and  welcome 

Guest  in  that  gift-hall !     Goodly,  noble, 

The  beautiful  bairns  burst  into  manhood 

Soon  on  my  sight  ;  I  saw  them  before  me, 

A  pair  of  great  princes.     I  am  pained,  woe-stricken 

That  one  of  them  lieth  lifeless,  unwarlike, 

Down  in  the  dust,  dead  in  his  armor, 

Shorn  of  his  hand-strength.     A  handsome,  fair-haired, 

Beautiful  boy  was  the  brave  young  Horsa, 

Stately  of  stature,  straight  as  an  ash-spear, 

Manly  of  mien,  yet  meek  in  his  spirit, 

Tender  and  true.     He  turned  unto  warfare 

Early  in  youth  ;  his  excellent  father 

Let  his  brave  earlmen  take  him  off  on  the  seas 

To  the  northward  and  southward.     None  was  hardier, 

More  dauntless,  intrepid.     The  two  great  brothers 

Filled  with  their  fame  the  fjords  and  the  rivers 

And  oceans  and  seas  ;  and  all  of  the  northland 

Rang  with  their  deeds,  and  the  deeps  did  resound 

With  the  praise  of  their  prowess.     Prone  in  the  dust  now 

The  dear  one  is  lying :  dead  is  Horsa, 

Our  fond-loved  friend-lord :  Fate  hath  offsnatched  him, 

Wyrd  is  supreme.     I  ween,  friends  will  soon 

Build  him  a  barrow  broad,  uptowering, 


42  Old  English  Idyls. 

High  under  heaven,  as  heroes  and  leaders 

Are  wont  to  enjoy.     Well  merits  he 

That  forever  and  ever  honor  be  paid  him 

'Mid  all  the  races  that  ocean  encircleth 

As  he  kisseth  the  cliffs :  come,  hero-thanes, 

Lift  the  dear  liegelord."     The  lay  then  was  ended, 

Sad  yet  triumphant  song  of  the  gleeman, 

Mood-weary  minstrel.     Men  of  the  Anglians 

Brought,  then,  the  bier,  bare  the  dear  hero, 

Atheling  of  earlmen,  off  from  the  field 

Where  low  he  was  lying.     They  looked  on  him  tenderlj 

(Sad  were  their  spirits) ;  he  saw  not  the  good  ones, 

Gave  them  no  answer  to  all  they  were  saying 

Of  him  so  kindly.     They  quickly  lifted  him, 

And  laid  him  away  where  the  wolf  and  the  raven 

And  the  dewy-winged  eagle  not  ever  might  touch  him, 

Where  birds  of  the  battle  and  beasts  of  the  carnage 

Might  never  annoy  him,  noble,  distinguished 

Earlman,  atheling.     The  excellent  hero 

Must  climb  on  the  pyre  to  the  clutch  of  the  fire, 

Must  hence  to  Valhalla.     Henchmen-kinsmen 

Of  the  battle-famed  brothers  would  burn  the  good  hero, 

Give  to  the  flame  the  famed,  eminent 

Kinsman  of  Hengist ;  high  on  his  pyre 

Would  aloft  lift  then  their  liegelord-chieftain, 

The  man  so  lamented.     Many  good  earlmen 

Fetched  for  the  fire  fagots  and  twigs 

And  logs  of  the  largest,  laid  them  together 

High  'neath  the  welkin  :  the  wood-heap  was  early 

Built  for  the  burning.    There  were  brought  thitherward, 


The  Death  of  Horsa.  43 

On  the  heap  hung  then,  helmets,  byrnies, 

Arms  and  armor  and  all  such  war-gear 

As  their  lord  when  alive  delighted  to  gaze  on, 

Or  bear  to  the  battle.     Beautiful  gems, 

Of  rings  richest  and  rarest  of  treasures, 

Were  flung  on  the  fire  :  the  flame  devoured  them, 

Ate  them  greedily,  gulping,  swallowing  them, 

Hungriest  of  heroes.     Henchmen-kinsmen 

Of  Wihtgils's  bairn  brought  his  good  charger, 

The  horse  of  the  hero :  the  high-bred  steed 

Was  led  to  the  pyre  and  laid  thereon  then 

To  burn  with  the  brave  one.     Bright  were  his  trappings, 

Gleaming,  golden  ;  the  gear  of  the  war-horse 

Was  shining,  sheen,  would  shame  not  his  rider  when 

In  the  halls  of  Valhalla  the  hero  all-mounted 

Passed  to  his  place  in  the  palace  of  Odin. 

Two  well-loved  kinsmen,  Wiglaf  and  Guthmond, 

Mindful  of  duty,  mounted  the  fire 

To  go  with  the  atheling  off  on  his  journey 

To  Valhalla  on  high  :  the  horse  he  would  ride  on 

(The  kinsmen  were  comrades)  when  he  came  in  his  glory 

To  the  heaven  of  heroes.     Heart- weary  thanes, 

Wailing,  disconsolate  kinsmen  and  vassals 

Of  Hengist  and  Horsa,  hymning  their  sorrows, 

In  mournful  measures  lamented  their  leader, 

In  rhythm  and  rime  :  "  Red  is  the  fire, 

Bitter  the  bite  of  the  blaze  as  it  burneth, 

And  the  flame  as  it  fluttereth.     Fare  thee  well,  Horsa, 

Leader  of  liegemen,  beloved,  lamented 

Earl  of  the  Anglians.     Honor  attend  thee 


44  Old  English  Idyls. 

In  Valhalla,  the  heaven  of  heroes  and  warriors 

And  all  good  athelings.     Thy  earlmen  will  ever 

Remember  thy  mighty  muscle  and  valor 

And  deeds  of  great  daring.     Dear-loved  Horsa, 

Ride  thou  in  splendor  the  spacious,  lofty 

Halls  of  Valhalla.     Here,  soon  will  we 

Build  thee  a  barrow,  a  broad-fashioned,  high-towering 

Memory-mound,  that  men  of  all  eras 

Ever  may  honor  the  excellent  name 

And  far-reaching  fame  of  the  faithful,  dauntless 

Liegelord  and  leader,  beloved,  trusty 

Brother  of  Hengist."     The  burning  was  over, 

The  flame  flickered,  flaring  but  little, 

All  in  ashes  the  atheling  Horsa 

And  battle-steed  brave  ;  burnt,  molten,  then, 

Were  treasures  and  gems.     The  troopers  of  Hengist 

Delayed  not  long,  liegemen  bereaved, 

A-building  the  barrow  ;  battle-thanes  reared  it 

High  under  heaven  on  hill-top  alofty 

Nigh  unto  Aylesford.     With  earth  and  with  rock 

They  sadly,  proudly  piled  it  heavenward, 

Mournful,  exultant,  till  upward  there  rose  a 

Memorial  mound-hill,  to  mark  and  to  honor 

The  passing  of  Horsa,  prince  of  the  vikings, 

Who  had  laid  down  his  life  for  liegemen  and  kinsmen. 

They  with  flint  faced  it,  that,  firm  on  the  summit, 

It  stout  and  strong  might  stand  on  the  hill-top 

For  ever  and  aye.     The  excellent  heroes 

Wished  then  but  little  the  waters  of  heaven, 

Whether  rippling  in  rain  or  rushing  in  rivers, 


The  Death  of  Horsa.  45 

Should  wash  away  ever  the  well-loved  atheling's 
Broad-stretching  barrow :  they  built  it  so  firmly, 
With  stones  stayed  it,  to  stand  there  forever 
As  a  memory-mark  to  the  man  who  had  gladly 
Laid  down  his  life  that  his  liegemen-kinsmen 
Might  have  and  might  hold  the  homesteads  and  land- 
rights 

The  gods  had  given  them.     Goodly,  lofty 
The  barrow  uprose,  ready  to  hold  the 
Atheling's  dear  ashes  ;  up  tow'rds  the  welkin 
The  hill-mound  of  heroes  a-high  towered  then, 
That  farers  from  far-lands  might  fail  not  to  know  it 
As  Horsa  the  hero's  high-rising,  spacious 
Memory-mound.     A  many  of  jewels 
Bright  and  beautiful,  bracelets,  collars, 
Brooches  and  rings,  richest  of  treasures, 
Were  brought  to  the  barrow.     The  bright-shining  helm, 
Armor  of  iron  and  all  good  weapons, 
Swords  and  lances,  that  liegemen  and  heroes 
Love  in  their  life-days  were  laid  in  the  mound-hill 
With  atheling  Horsa's  ashes  and  bones, 
His  troopers  twain,  and  the  trusty,  faithful 
Horse  of  the  hero.     Valhalla  received  them 
Early  thereafter  :  they  entered  proudly 
The  spacious  and  splendid  expanses  that  span  the 
Halls  of  Valhalla.     Then  the  heart-wretched  troopers, 
Mourning  shield-bearers,  mounted  their  steeds 
And  rode  round  the  broad-stretching  barrow  of  Horsa 
Sadly,  slowly  ;  singing  his  praises 
Mournfully  in  measure  ;  remembering  with  pleasure 


46  Old  English  Idyls. 

His  deeds  of  daring,  his  dauntless,  fearless, 

Adventuresome  valor  ;  vowing  and  declaring 

That,  through  all  the  ages,  forever  and  ever, 

Their  children's  children  should  cherish  and  honor 

His  name  and  fame,  never  forgetting 

How  Horsa  with  Hengist  hither  had  led  them 

To  the  isle  of  Albion,  ever-beloved, 

Peerless  and  precious  pearl  of  the  ocean  ; 

How,  to  win  for  his  folk  this  fairest  of  islands, 

This  sea-encircled,  sweetest  of  places, 

He  sought  and  fought  the  fiercest  and  bravest 

Of  all  men  of  Albion,  and  eagerly  hastened 

To  lay  down  his  life  for  land- folk  and  kindred. 


V. 

CERDIC    AND    ARTHUR. 

HENGIST  went  off  to  All-Father's  keeping, 
Wihtgils's  son,  to  the  Wielder's  protection, 
Earl  of  the  Anglians.     From  the  east  came,  then, 
Cerdic  the  Saxon  a  seven-year  thereafter  ; 
The  excellent  atheling,  offspring  of  Woden 
Came  into  Albion.     His  own  dear  land 
Lay  off  to  the  eastward  out  o'er  the  sea-ways, 
Far  o'er  the  flood-deeps.     His  fair-haired,  eagle-eyed 
Liegeman  and  son  sailed  westwardly, 
O'er  the  flint-gray  floods,  with  his  father  and  liegelord, 
O'er  the  dashing,  lashing,  dark-flowing  currents 
That  roll  and  roar,  rumble,  grumble 
Eastward  of  Albion.     Not  e'er  hath  been  told  me 
Of  sea-goers  twain  trustier,  doughtier 
Than  Cerdic  and  Cynric,  who  sailed  o'er  the  waters 
Valiant,  invincible  vikings  and  sea-dogs 
Seeking  adventure.     Swift  westwardly, 
O'er  the  fallow  floods,  fared  they  to  Albion, 
Would  look  for  the  land  that  liegemen-kinsmen 
Of  Hengist  and  Horsa  and  high-mooded  Aella 
And  Cissa  had  come  to.     Cerdic  was  mighty, 
Earl  of  the  Saxons.     His  excellent  barks, 
His  five  good  floats,  fanned  by  the  breezes, 

47 


48  Old  English  Idyls. 

Gliding  the  waters  were  wafted  to  Albion, 

Ocean-encircled  isle  of  the  sea-waves, 

Delightsomest  of  lands.      Lay  then  at  anchor 

The  five  good  keels  close  to  the  sea-shore ; 

The  swans  of  the  sea  sat  on  the  water 

Close  by  the  cliff-edge.     The  clever  folk-leader 

Was  boastful  and  blithesome,  brave-mooded  Saxon, 

Said  to  his  earlmen  :  "  Excellent  thanes 

True-hearted,  trusty  table-companions, 

See  the  good  land  the  loving,  generous 

Gods  have  given  you :  go,  seize  on  it. 

I  and  my  son  have  sailed  westwardly, 

To  gain  with  our  swords  such  goodly  possessions 

As  Hengist  and  Aella  did  erstwhile  win 

On  the  island  of  Albion.     On  to  the  battle, 

The  foe  confronteth  us."     Folk  of  the  island, 

Earlmen  of  Albion,  angry-mooded,  then, 

Stood  stoutly  there,  striving  to  hurl  them 

Off  in  the  ocean  east  to  the  mainland, 

Back  o'er  the  billows.     Bravely  Albion's 

Fearless  defenders  fought  with  the  stranger 

Then  and  thereafter  :  early  did  Cerdic 

See  and  declare  that  slowly,  bloodily, 

And  foot  by  foot,  must  the  folk  of  the  Saxons 

Tear  from  the  Welsh  their  well-loved,  blithesome, 

Beautiful  fatherland.     Brave  were  the  men  that 

So  long  could  repel  the  puissant,  fearless 

Sons  of  the  Saxons  that  had  sailed  o'er  the  oceans 

To  do  or  to  die,  doughty,  invincible 

Earls  of  the  east.     The  excellent  kinsmen, 


Cerdic  and  Arthur.  49 

Father  and  son,  scions  of  Woden, 

Burned  in  their  spirit  to  build  in  the  south  the 

Greatest  of  kingdoms  :  't  was  granted  to  Cerdic 

To  be  first  of  the  famous  folk-lords  of  Wessex, 

Land-chiefs  beloved  ;  to  lead,  herald  the 

World-famous  roll  of  the  wise,  eminent 

Athelings  of  Wessex,  where  Egbert  and  Ethelwulf, 

Alfred  and  Edward,  ever  resplendently, 

Spaciously  shine,  shepherds  of  peoples, 

Excellent  athelings,  and  Athelstan,  Godwin 

And  Harold  the  hero,  helms  of  the  Saxons, 

Have  their  names  written  in  record  of  glory 

In  legend  and  story,  leaving  their  fame  as  an 

Honor  forever  to  England,  peerless 

Mother  of  heroes.  —  The  men  of  the  east 

Slowly,  bloodily  builded  a  kingdom 

Where  Aesc  and  Aella  not  e'er  had  been  able 

To  bear  their  banners,  though  both  these  athelings 

Were  in  might  marvellous,  mood-brave,  heroic 

Leaders  of  liegemen.  —  Beloved  of  the  Welsh 

Was  the  atheling  Arthur,  excellent,  valiant 

Lord  of  the  Silurians,  land-prince,  warrior 

Famed  'mid  the  races.     He  rued  bitterly 

That  father  and  son,  Saxon  invaders, 

To  the  left  and  the  right  were  wresting,  tearing 

From  races  no  few  their  fond-loved,  blood-bought 

Homesteads  and  manors,  were  hacking  and  sacking 

Folk  of  the  southland,  and  far  westwardly 

Had  bitterly  banished  the  best  of  the  heroes 

And  earlmen  of  Albion.     Arthur  was  mighty, 


50  Old  English  Idyls. 

Uther  Pendragon's  offspring  beloved, 

His  fame  far-reaching.     Afar  and  anear  then, 

All  men  of  Albion  honored  and  loved  him  ; 

Sent  over  Severn  beseeching  the  mighty 

Silurian  leader  no  longer  to  tarry 

In  crushing  the  foemen,  but  quickly  to  drive  them 

Back  to  their  bottomless  bogs  in  the  eastward 

O'er  the  rime-cold  sea  ;  said  wailingly  : 

"  The  fierce,  pitiless  folk  of  the  eastward, 

Mighty,  remorseless  men  of  the  waters, 

Treacherous,  terrible,  will  take  speedily 

Our  name  and  nation,  and  naught  will  be  left  us 

But  to  dare  and  to  die."     The  doughty,  invincible 

Atheling  Arthur,  earl  of  Siluria, 

Offspring  of  Uther,  early  was  ready ; 

Feared  not,  failed  not,  fared  on  his  journey 

Seeking  for  Cerdic.     Severn's  waters 

Saw  him  and  laughed,  little  expecting 

That  Arthur  the  king  and  the  excellent  knights 

Of  the  Table  Round,  with  troopers  a-many, 

Would  suffer  the  foemen  to  seize  and  possess  the 

Lands  of  Siluria,  would  let  the  remorseless, 

Implacable,  pitiless  pagan  and  heathen 

Sail  over  Severn  ;  not  soon  did  it  happen 

While  Arthur  the  atheling  his  earth-joys  tasted 

Here  under  heaven.     That  hero  was  brave, 

Great,  all-glorious  :  God  fought  for  him  : 

Nor  Cerdic  nor  Cynric  could  soon  injure  that 

Hero  of  Heaven  ;  his  horrible  destiny 

Wyrd  the  weaver  wove  in  her  eerie, 


Cerdic  and  Arthur.  51 

Mysterious  meshes,  mighty,  taciturn 

Goddess  of  gods  :  she  gives  whom  she  will  to 

Speed  in  the  battle.     Brave-mooded  Arthur, 

Offspring  of  Uther,  was  eager  for  glory, 

Peerless  of  prowess  :  proudly,  dauntlessly 

Fought  he  for  Albion.     Not  e'er  heard  I 

Of  better  battle-knight,  more  bold,  fearless, 

That  sun  ever  shone  on  :  the  sheen  of  his  glory 

With  lustre  illumined  the  land  where  his  mother 

Gave  birth  to  the  bairn  ;  and  broad,  mighty, 

Spacious  his  fame  was  ;  his  splendid  achievements 

Were  known  to  all  nations.     None  could  e'er  dare  to 

Cope  with  that  hero,  till  the  conquering,  dauntless 

Earl  of  the  Anglians,  ever-beloved 

Founder  of  freedom  and  father  of  kings, 

O'er  the  seas  sailing,  slowly,  bloodily 

Builded  the  best  and  broadest  of  kingdoms 

Heroes  e'er  heard  of.     The  heart  of  king  Arthur 

Was  sad  as  he  saw  the  Saxon  invader 

How,  foot  by  foot,  forward,  onward, 

He  ever  proceeded,  eastward,  westward, 

Far  to  the  north,  founding  and  building 

A  kingdom  and  country  to  crush  and  destroy  the 

Land  that  he  long  had  lived  for,  thought  for, 

Fiercely  had  fought  for.     Famed  was  Arthur, 

Wide  his  renown  ;  but  Wyrd  the  spinster 

Taketh  no  heed  of  hero  or  craven  ; 

Her  warp  and  her  woof  she  weaveth  and  spinneth 

Unmindful  of  men.     The  mighty  war-hero, 

Atheling  Arthur,  set  out  on  his  journey, 


52  Old  English  Idyls. 

Laid  down  his  life-joys  ;  the  beloved  folk-lord's 
Feasting  was  finished.     Unflinching,  fearless, 
Doomed  unto  death,  dead  on  the  battle-field 
Fell  the  brave  folk-prince.     Foul  was  the  traitor, 
Hated  of  heroes.     The  hope  of  his  countrymen 
Sank  into  darkness  ;  for  dead  was  Arthur, 
The  last  and  the  best  and  bravest  of  Albion's 
Athelings  of  eld.     Not  ever  thereafter 
Could  the  Welshman  withstand  the  sturdy,  mighty 
Tread  of  the  Saxon  as  tramping,  advancing, 
Onward  he  went,  eastward,  westward, 
Far  to  the  northward  :  none  withstood  him, 
Now  Arthur  was  lifeless ;  he  alone  was  able 
To  stay  for  a  moment  that  sturdy,  mighty, 
Invincible  march.  —  The  valiant,  doughty 
Kinsmen  of  Cerdic,  conquering  earlmen, 
Forward  then  bare  bravely, 'unf  alt 'ringly, 
Daringly,  dauntlessly,  the  dragon  of  Wessex 
Fuming  and  flaming  ;  fearlessly  bare  it 
Northward,  eastward,  on  to  the  westward, 
O'er  Severn  and  Thames  and  Trent  and  H umber 
And  east  oceanward,  till  all  the  great  races 
Of  Albion's  isle  owned  as  their  liegelords 
The  children  of  Cerdic,  sire  of  kings  and 
Founder  of  freedom.     Few  among  athelings 
Were  greater  than  he,  gift-lord  eminent, 
Wielder  of  Wessex  ;  the  wise-mooded,  far-seeing, 
Brave-hearted  folk-prince  builded  his  kingdom 
As  a  bulwark  of  freedom.     His  brave,  high-hearted 
Table-companions,  trusty,  faithful 


Cerdic  and  Arthur,  53 

Liegemen  and  thanes,  leaped  to  his  service 

In  peace  and  in  war  :  well  did  they  love  him, 

Bowed  to  his  bidding  ;  blithely  followed  him 

Where  the  fight  was  fiercest  ;  would  fall  in  the  battle 

Gladly,  eagerly,  excellent  heroes, 

Ere  they  'd  leave  their  dear  lord  alone  on  the  battle-field, 

Bearing  unaided  the  onset  of  foes  and 

The  brunt  of  the  battle.     The  brave  ones  were  mindful 

Of  the  duties  of  liegemen  ;  dastardly  thought  it 

To  flee  from  the  field  while  their  fond,  loving 

Leader  and  liegelord  lingered  thereon 

Dead  or  alive ;  deemed  him  a  nidering 

Who  stood  not  stoutly,  sturdily,  manfully 

Close  to  his  lord  as  he  led  in  the  battle, 

Facing  the  foemen.     The  free-hearted  earlmen 

Minded  the  days  when  their  dear-honored  liegelord 

Feasted  the  throngs  of  thanemen-kinsmen 

In  the  handsomest  of  halls  heroes  e'er  sat  in 

'Neath  dome  of  the  welkin.     Well  they  remembered 

How  their  lord  lovingly  lavished  his  treasures 

On  all  earlmen  older  and  younger, 

Greater  and  lesser  :  't  were  loathsomest  treason 

To  leave  such  a  lord  alone  in  the  battle, 

With  a  foe  facing  him.     The  folk-ruler  mighty 

King-like  requited  them  with  costliest  gems, 

Most  bountiful  banqueting.       The  brave-hearted  man 

Builded  his  kingdom,  broadly  founded  it 

Northward,  eastward,  on  to  the  westward, 

South  to  the  seaward.     He  said  tenderly, 

Cerdic  discoursed,  king  of  the  Saxons, 


54  Old  English  Idyls. 

Father  of  England  :  "  Old,  hoary  is 

Cerdic  your  king,  kinsmen-thanemen, 

Warriors  of  Wessex.     Well  have  ye  served  me, 

Ye  and  your  fathers.     I  yet  remember 

How,  ere  age  came  on  me,  I  ever  was  foremost 

In  deeds  of  daring,  in  doughty  achievements, 

In  feats  of  prowess.     I  fought  valiantly 

Alone,  unaided,  with  only  my  faithful, 

Well-loved  sword,  and  swept  away  hundreds 

Of  earlmen  of  Albion  :  now  age,  ruthless, 

Horrible  foe  of  heroes  and  warriors, 

Hath  marred  my  might,  though  my  mood  is  as  daring, 

My  spirit  as  stout  and  sturdy  as  ever 

In  years  of  my  youth.     I  yearn  in  my  soul,  now, 

To  cross  over  Severn  and  cut  into  slivers 

The  wolf-hearted  Welshmen.     Well-nigh  a  forty 

Years  in  their  circuits  have  seen  me  a-conquering 

Here  under  heaven  :  from  hence,  early 

I  go  on  my  way.     Woden  will  bid  me 

To  the  halls  of  Valhalla,  where  heroes  will  meet  me, 

Gladly  will  seat  me  'mid  the  glory-encircled 

Heroes  of  heaven.     In  my  heart  it  pains  me 

To  feel  my  war-strength  fading  and  waning 

And  ebbing  away.     Would  I  might  leap  now 

Like  a  king  to  the  battle,  not  cow-like  breathe  out  my 

Soul  in  the  straw.     The  son  of  my  bosom, 

Cynric  my  bairn,  bravely  will  lead  you 

When  I  am  no  more :  he  ever  hath  proved  him 

A  bold  battle-earl.     My  blade  I  will  give  him, 

Sigbrand  my  sword  :  he  hath  served  me  faithfully 


Cerdic  and  Arthur.  55 

Sixty  of  winters  :  well  do  I  love  him, 

Bold-hearted  battle-brand."     The  brave  earlmen,  then, 

Shouted  lustily,  loudly  commending 

The  words  of  good  Cerdic.     Cynric  they  loved,  too, 

Son  of  the  hero  ;  themselves  had  beheld  him 

How  valiant,  adventurous,  invincible,  king-like 

He  ever  had  borne  him,  since  erst  he  landed 

To  fight,  with  his  father,  the  fierce,  implacable, 

Wolf-hearted  Welshmen  :  well  did  they  love  him, 

And  oft  on  the  ale-benches  earlmen  asserted 

That,  when  good  king  Cerdic,  gracious,  beloved 

Ward  of  the  kingdom,  went  on  his  journey, 

Laid  down  his  life-joys,  his  liegefolk  would  never 

Find  them  a  folk-lord  fonder,  truer, 

More  honored  of  all  men,  than  atheling  Cynric 

Surely  would  prove  him.     Shouted  they  lustily, 

"  Wes  hael,  wes  hael !  hero  of  Wessex, 

Cerdic  the  conqueror,"  clanging  their  lances 

And  beating  their  bucklers,  bellowed  like  oxen, 

Blew  in  their  shields,  shouting,  yelling 

Glad-hearted,-  gleefully.     The  good  one  discoursed,  then, 

Cerdic  the  king  said  to  his  liegemen 

(Henchmen  all  hearkened)  :  "  Hear  ye,  good  troopers, 

Of  Sigbrand  my  sword.     I  said  he  was  trusty, 

And  bitter  in  biting.      I  brought  him  to  Albion 

Far  from  the  eastward.     I  fared,  long  ago, 

East  over  Elbe  and  Oder  and  Weser 

And  thence  to  the  northward,  never  wearying, 

Greedy  for  glory  ;  'mid  the  Goths  found  it, 

Old,  iron-made,  excellent  sword-blade, 


56  Old  English  Idyls. 

Weland  his  work.     Well  I  remember 
How  I  heard  high-hearted  heroes  and  athelings, 
My  true-hearted  troopers,  tell  how  a  dragon, 
His  cave  guarding,  kept  there  a  treasure 
Age  after  age  ;  how  earls  of  the  eastward 
Said  that  Sigbrand,  the  sword-blade  of  Hermann, 
Was  kept  in  that  cave  covered  with  magic, 
Encircled  with  sorcery,  secretly  guarded, 
Bound  with  enchantments.     I  boldly  adventured 
A  grim  grapple  with  that  grisly,  terrible 
Fire-spewing  dragon,  to  fetch  to  the  westward 
The  well-loved,  warlike,  wide-famous  brand 
Of  Hermann  the  hero.     I  hied  o'er  the  rivers 
And  off  to  the  eastward  :  earls  of  those  lands  there 
Laughed  when  they  learned  that  a  lad  from  the  west 
ward 
Would  dare  the  great  dragon  that  had  daunted  their 

fathers 

Five  hundred  winters.     I  fared  eastward  then, 
Met  with  the  monster,  mightily  smote  him, 
To  earth  felled  him  ;  flamings  of  battle 
Horribly  hurled  he,  hotly  he  snorted, 
Would  seethe  me  in  poison.     With  the  point  of  my 

blade 

I  proudly  did  prick  him.     Prone  he  fell  forward, 
Dead  lay  the  dragon.     His  den  was  no  more 
A  horror  to  heroes ;  hastened  I  in,  then, 
To  joy  in  the  sight  of  jewels  and  treasures 
And  song-famous  swords  that  had  slept  on  the  wall 
there 


Cerdic  and  Arthur.  57 

From  earliest  eras,  edge-keen,  famous, 

Magic-encircled  swords  of  the  ancients, 

Old-work  of  giants.    With  joy,  saw  I 

World-famous  Sigbrand,  sword-blade  of  Hermann, 

Men-leader  mighty,  matchless  battle-knight, 

Hero  of  Germany.     I  hastily  seized  it 

All  rusting  to  ruin  ;  the  rime-carved,  ancient 

Sword  of  the  hero  was  soon  hanging  then 

Safe  at  my  side :  it  hath  served  me  faithfully 

Sixty  of  winters,  well-tried,  trifsty 

Friend-in-the-battle.     When  I  fare,  troopers, 

Hence  to  Valhalla,  high-hearted  Cynric, 

My  fond-loved  son,  folk-lord  of  Wessex, 

Will  take  up  the  brand  borne  by  his  father 

And  carve  out  a  kingdom  clean  to  the  northward  and 

Wide  to  the  westward  ;  the  Welshman  will  cower 

And  shudder  and  shake,  as  the  shout  of  the  Saxon 

Frightens  afresh  forest  and  river 

And  meadow  and  plain.     I  shall  pass  on  my  journey 

Early  anon  :  old  and  hoary, 

Death  will  subdue  me.     Dear  young  heroes, 

Do  as  I  bid  ye.     Bear  ye  onward 

The  banner  of  Wessex.     Wyrd  will  help  you 

If  doughty  your  valor.      I  dare  to  allege  it, 

That  the  gods  have  given  this  goodly,  bountiful 

Land  of  Albion  to  the  liegemen  and  children 

Of  Cerdic  the  Saxon  ;  seize,  hold  to  it 

Forever  and  ever.     Ye  early  will  see  me 

Lorn  of  my  life-joys,  lying  unwarlike, 

Dead  in  my  armor.      I  urge  you,  good  heroes, 


58  Old  English  Idyls. 

To  build  me  a  barrow  broad-stretching,  lofty. 
High  on  the  cliff-edge,  that  comers  from  far 
May  see  it  and  say  that  so  did  Angle-folk 
Honor  the  atheling  that  erstwhile  led  their 
Fathers  of  old  in  founding:  a  kingdom." 


VI. 
AUGUSTINE. 

Lo !  we  have  heard  of  the  holy,  beloved, 
Bishop  and  Father,  far-famous  Gregory, 
Good,  great-hearted,  God's  dear  servant, 
Faithful  and  far-seeing  father  and  pastor, 
Shepherd  of  souls,  how  he  saw  in  the  market 
Beautiful,  blue-eyed  bairns  of  the  Angles 
Selling  as  slaves.     Then  sad,  groaned  he 
When  he  learned  that  the  land  they  lived  in  was  given 
Wholly  to  heathendom,  that  Heaven's  good  story, 
The  gospel  of  peace,  gracious,  joyful- 
Message  of  mercy  to  men  of  all  races, 
Was  known  of  not  any  of  all  the  myriads 
Of  fair-haired  Anglians  in  that  far-away,  sea-girt 
Isle  of  the  ocean.     Eagerly  Gregory 
Yearned  tow'rds  the  youths  :  "  Yea,"  said  the  good  one, 
God's  dear  liegeman,  "go  I  will  early 
To  the  isle  of  the  Anglians  and  urge  them  to  hearken 
The  good,  peace-bringing  gospel  of  Jesus, 
Saviour  of  sinners  :  the  souls  of  the  Angles 
Shall  shine  in  my  crown  when  I  come  into  glory 
At  the  throne  of  the  Lamb,  who  liveth  forever, 
Lord  everlasting."     Thus  the  loving,  gentle 
Bishop  and  father  felt  unto  all  men 

59 


60  Old  English  Idyls. 

Here  under  heaven,  his  heart  mellowed 
With  love  that  was  heavenly  ;  he  longed  for  his  Master's 
Kingdom  to  come  'mid  the  kindreds  and  races 
He  had  died  to  redeem  ;  by  clay  and  by  night, 
Prayed  he  in  faith,  with  fasting  and  vigil, 
That,  at  Jesus'  name,  every  knee  might  bow 
In  heaven  and  earth  and  under  the  earth, 
And  every  tongue  confess  that  He  truly  is  Lord, 
To  the  glory  of  God.     The  good  one  minded, 
The  Lord's  dear  liegeman,  longed  for  the  journey 
To  the  far-away  land  of  the  lovely,  godless 
Youths  of  the  Anglians  ;  he  yearned  greatly 
To  bear  the  blessed,  beautiful  story 
Of  Jesus'  love  to  the  land  of  the  Angles, 
Heathenish  heroes,  where  the  high  and  the  low, 
The  king  and  the  churl,  called  upon  Odin 
And  Thor  and  Frea  and  throngs  of  beings 
That  peopled  the  air,  nor  ever  heard  tell  of 
The  fond-loving  Father  that  formed  them  and  gave  them 
The  breath  of  life,  of  the  loving  Jesus 
Who  left  his  celestial,  delightsome,  perennial 
Home  in  the  heavens,  and  hither  did  come 
To  bear  among  men  the  mocking  and  taunting, 
The  gibes  and  the  jests,  of  Jews  that  despitefully 
Scorned  and  scouted  and  scoffed  him,  and  nailed  him 
Tight  to  His  death,  tender,  patient 
Saviour  of  sinners.     Sad  were  the  Romans 
When  they  heard  that  their  gentle,  holy  apostle 
Would  fare  to  the  northward;  they  feared  they  might 
see  him 


A  ugustine.  6 1 

Never  again  going  his  errands 

Of  mercy  and  peace  to  men  of  that  city 

That  had  long  loved  him.     They  little  would  hear  of 

His  mission  o'er  sea,  mightily  urged  him 

To  leave  unto  others  the  errand  to  Anglia 

While  himself  should  serve  his  city  and  nation, 

Rome  and  Italy,  ever-beloved 

Land  of  his  fathers.      Loth  was  Gregory, 

The  Lord's  dear  liegeman,  loving  apostle, 

To  entrust  his  mission  of  mercy  and  pardon 

To  any  one  else  of  all  the  brave  fathers 

That  would  go  gladly  so  goodly  a  journey 

Off  to  the  Anglians.     Early  thereafter, 

He  sent  in  his  stead  the  saintly  Augustine, 

Heaven's  dear  hermit,  who  hied  to  the  northward 

With  two-score  trusty,  true-hearted,  God-fearing, 

Faithful  confessors  :  they  fared  gladly,  then, 

Northward,  westward,  never  repining 

Though  rivers  were  dashing,  fiercely  lashing 

Their  shingly  shores,  though  shimmering  glaciers 

From  Alps  that  were  icy  angrily  thundered 

And  rumbled  around  them.     Rome's  dear  missioners 

Recked  not  of  rivers  though  rolling  in  blood- waves, 

Cared  not  for  mountains  though  covered  with  ice-robes, 

Fearing  no  peril  pressed  on  their  holy, 

Blessed,  joy-bringing  journey  to  Albion, 

To  tell  the  Anglians  the  ever-enrapturing, 

Heart-stirring  story  of  the  holy,  divine 

And  gentle  Jesus  who,  rejected  and  slain 

By  the  men  He  had  come  to,  commanded  His  liegemen 


62  Old  English  Idyls. 

To  go  forth  bearing  His  gospel  to  all  men, 

Kindreds  and  nations.      Noble  Augustine 

.Wished  for  the  wind  that  would  waft  him  to  seaward, 

Northward,  westward,  o'er  the  weltering  currents, 

The  seething  surges,  safe  to  the  Anglian 

Cliffs  oversea.      He  saw  westwardly 

The  land  that  he  longed  for  lying  in  beauty, 

And  waiting  to  welcome  the  winsome,  blessed 

Message  of  mercy  that  the  mighty  Creator 

Had  sent  through  his  mouth  to  the  men  of  the  Angles 

Far  to  the  northward.     The  foam-throated  vessel, 

Lustrous  and  lovely,  lay  then  at  anchor 

Sheen  by  the  shore  ;  her  shimmering  canvas 

Was  big  with  the  breezes  that  blew  from  the  heavens, 

Blithely  to  bear  the  blessed,  faithful 

Sailors  of  Jesus  o'er  the  sea-deeps  westward 

To  the  isle  of  the  Anglians.     The  excellent  bark, 

Foamy-necked  floater,  was  fain  of  the  journey 

West  o'er  the  waters.     The  one  and  forty 

Henchmen  of  heaven  happily  clomb  then 

The  curved-necked  craft,  cared  not  to  tarry, 

But  prayed  for  the  wind  to  waft  them  speedily 

O'er  the  fields  of  the  flood  to  the  far-away,  sea-washed 

Land  of  the  Angles,  where  the  low  and  the  high, 

The  churl  and  the  king,  clad  in  their  darkness, 

Saw  not  the  Father  who  had  formed  them,  beheld  not 

The  Son  who  had  saved  them.     Soon  was  the  bark 

Off  on  the  ocean  :  eagerly  hied  she 

To  bear  the  battle-brave  bairns  and  heroes 

Afar  to  the  combat.     She  fared  joyously ; 


Augustine.  63 

Gladly,  gleefully  glided  the  waters, 

Skimming  the  sea-deeps.     The  sweet-mooded  vessel 

Sped  with  the  wind  westward  to  carry 

The  joy-bringing  news  how  Jesus  the  Saviour 

Had  come  in  the  east,  that  all  of  the  blood-thirsty, 

Cruel  and  ruthless,  wrangling,  jangling 

Men  of  all  lands  might  in  loving  Him 

Love  one  another.      Lightly  fleeted  she, 

Goodspeed  was  given  her.     God-Father  bade,  then, 

His  breezes  blow  and  bear  to  the  Anglians 

Such  heart-cheering  news  as  ne'er  under  heaven 

Those  heroes  had  heard  since  their  heathenish  eyes  did 

First  see  the  sun  swim  in  the  ether, 

First  looked  on  the  luminous,  lustrous,  resplendent 

Orb  in  his  beauty,  beaming,  gleaming 

Torch  of  the  firmament.     The  truth  is  established 

That  great,  all-glorious  God  almighty 

Ruleth  the  races  and  reigneth  forever 

High  in  the  heavens,  beholdeth  the  nations 

As  a  drop  in  the  bucket,  as  the  dust  of  the  balance, 

Lord  everlasting.  —  Lightly  glided,  then, 

The  keel  o'er  the  currents,  her  canvas  outspreading 

With  bellying  breezes.     The  billows  were  gentle, 

Ocean  not  angry,  not  ever  would  harm 

The  Lord's  dear  vessel  as,  leaping  to  westward, 

She  bare  on  her  bosom  the  blessed,  holy, 

Gracious  Augustine,  God's  dear  liegeman, 

And  his  forty  good  thanes,  far-sailing,  valiant 

Heroes  of  heaven.     Holy  Augustine, 

Musing,  pondering,  marked  in  his  vision 


64  Old  English  Idyls. 

The  cragged  cliffs,  declivitous  nesses, 

That  shone  and  shimmered  sheen  in  the  distance, 

Far  to  the  westward :  no  fuller  on  earth 

Could  add  to  the  whiteness  of  those  high-towering,  lofty, 

Heaven-kissing  headlands.    O'er  the  holm-currents  glided 

The  bird  of  the  ocean,  bare  westwardly 

The  forty  and  one  well-equipped,  dauntless, 

Eager,  excellent  earlmen  of  Heaven, 

Liegemen  beloved.     They  landed  eftsoones 

On  Thanet's  dear  isle,  where  erstwhile  the  brothers, 

Hengist  and  Horsa,  and  heroes  a-many, 

Folk-leaders  famed,  had  founded  a  nation 

Of  strength  so  sturdy  as  to  stand  forever 

A  bulwark  of  freedom.     The  forty-one  ^heroes, 

Conquering  combatants,  came  to  the  shore, 

Their  sea-wood  dismounted.      Men  of  the  island, 

Gaping,  gazing,  greedily  wondered, 

Musing,  marvelling  what  meaning  to  see  in 

Their  errand  to  Anglia  :  an  earl  of  the  water, 

The  guard  of  the  sea-coast,  greeted  the  strangers, 

With  questions  accosting  :  "  Comers-from-farlands, 

Earls  of  the  ocean,  open  your  word-hoard, 

Tell  me  in  earnest  what  errand  hath  brought  you 

O'er  the  flood-deeps  foaming.      Folk-troopers  like  you 

Ne'er  have  I  seen.     No  swords  rune-covered, 

Well-fashioned  war-mail,  wire-braided  helmets, 

No  arms  nor  armor  on  you  or  with  you 

Have  /  yet  seen.     Say  now  your  errand, 

Ye  bald-headed  *  battle-thanes."     The  blessed  Augustine 

1  He  did  not  understand  the  tonsure. 


Augustine.  65 

Spake  with  decorum  :  "  Courteous  liegeman, 

Earlman  of  Ethelbert,  I  urge  thee,  hasten, 

Speed  then,  tarry  not,  tell  good  Ethelbert, 

King  of  the  Kentmen,  I  come  with  a  message 

Promising  peace  and  purest,  serenest 

Bliss  everlasting  to  obedient  souls, 

A  kingdom  eternal  with  the  true  and  living 

God  in  his  glory."     The  gracious,  gentle 

Message  so  kindly,  quickly  was  borne,  then, 

To  Ethelbert  king  of  Angles  and  Kentmen, 

Who  musing,  pondering,  marvelled  what  answer 

Such  message  demanded.      His  men  then  bade  he 

To  care  for  the  pilgrims,  keep  them  in  honor 

Off  on  the  island.      Early  anon 

He  came  forth  to  meet  them  ;  he  minded  to  greet  them 

'Neath  the  roof  of  the  heavens  ;  his  heart  misgave  him 

Lest  the  men  of  the  mainland  with  magic  might  harm 

him, 

With  sorcery  charm  him  ;  his  soul  not  yet  was 
Freed  from  its  fetters  ;  fiends  and  monsters, 
Demons  of  darkness,  deadly,  loathsome, 
Held  in  their  hand-grip  the  high-mooded,  noble 
Ethelbert's  spirit.      He  afterward  knew 
The  life-giving  Lord,  the  Light  that  was  given 
To  lighten  the  heathen.  —  The  lord  of  the  Kentmen 
Sat  on  the  sward,  safer  he  deemed  it 
From  charm  and  enchantment.     He  charged  his  good 

thanes, 

Beloved  liegemen,  to  let  not,  hinder  not, 
But  gladly,  the  rather,  to  guide  the  good  men  where 


66  Old  English  Idyls. 

Soon  they  might  see  him.     Swiftly,  liegemen 

Did  as  he  bade  them  ;  .  dearly,  thane-like, 

Loved  they  their  lord  ;  leaped  they,  flew  they, 

Obeying  his  bidding.     The  brave  ones  would  learn, 

Were  eager  to  know,  on  what  errand,  service, 

Mission,  message,  the  men  of  the  southland 

Had  come  to  the  Anglians  :  excellent  heroes 

Asked  then  and  urged  the  earlmen  of  Gregory 

To  come  and  declare  to  their  king,  liegelord, 

What  hither  had  brought  them  and  why  they  had  sought 

them. 

Forthwith  then  the  heroes  of  heaven  were  ready, 
Burned  for  the  battle  ;  boldly,  fearlessly 
Leaped  into  line,  longing,  thirsting 
To  fight  with  the  fiends  that  fiercely,  cruelly 
Held  in  their  chains  the  children  of  Hengist 
And  all  of  the  Anglians.     Armor  of  iron 
None  they  needed  then  ;  nothing  of  sword-kind 
Ringing,  swinging,  swung  from  their  girdles  ; 
Spears  they  despised.     Their  spirits  a-mighty 
Leaned  on  the  Lord,  who  had  led  them  thitherward 
To  fight  not  with  foes  fleshly  and  earthly, 
But  with  powers  of  the  air  and  princes  of  evil 
That  wince  not  at  weapons.     There  waved  not,  fluttered 


Banner  embossed,  emblazoned  with  glory 
Of  earlmen  of  earth  ;  but  the  image  of  Jesu 
High  over  head  was  held  for  a  standard, 
That  the  forty  and  one  war-heroes  dauntless, 
Might  look  on  their  Lord,  the  lowly  yet  mighty 


Augustine,  67 

God-man  triumphant  ;  the  grave  could  not  keep  him, 
Hell  could  not  hold  him.     The  heroes  of  Jesus, 
Most  eager  of  earlmen,  onward,  forward 
Bare  then  their  banner  not  blazoned  with  glory 
Of  barons  of  earth,  not  broidered  nor  carven 
With  far-renowned  folk-lord's  famous  achievements 
And  deeds  of  great  daring  ;  but  the  dear-loved  symbol, 
Emblem  of  love,  was  lifted  above ; 
Christ  on  his  cross  kindly,  patiently, 
Gently,  lovingly  looked  down  upon  them, 
Meekly  submitting  to  mocking,  taunting, 
As  thirsting,  fainting,  he  was  thrust  through  and  ham 
mered 

Down  to  his  death.     He  died  as  a  sinner, 
The  sinless,  holy,  suffering  victim, 
The  just  for  the  unjust,  ever-beloved 
Atheling  of  heaven.  —  Onward,  forward, 
Measuredly  marching,  the  men  of  the  southland 
To  the  king  came  then  ;  the  conquering  heroes 
Stoutly,  staunchly,  sturdily  hastened 
To  grapple  the  diremooded  demons  from  hell, 
Spirits  of  evil,  that  ever  possess  the 
Lands  of  the  heathen,  loathsome  and  grisly, 
Horrible  devils.  —  Their  hymns-for-the-battle, 
Songs  and  paeans,  were  sweet-toned  litanies, 
Penitent  prayers  for  pardon  and  mercy 
For  themselves  and  all  the  Anglian  myriads 
Sunk  in  their  sins.     Soon  came  they,  then, 
Two-score  and  one  trusty,  faithful 
Priests  of  the  Lord-God,  praying,  chanting 


68  Old  English  Idyls. 

Hymns  unto  Heaven  :  happily  saw  they 

Excellent  Ethelbert,  earl  of  the  Kentmen, 

Waiting  to  greet  them.     The  gracious,  beloved 

Confessors  and  fathers,  fain-mooded,  tarried  not, 

Delayed  not  nor  lingered,  their  lip-treasure  opened, 

Said  to  the  king  :  "  We  are  servants  and  liegemen 

Of  God  Almighty,  who  made  out  of  nothing 

Heaven  and  earth  and  all  that  is  in  them. 

He  willed,  and  the  worlds  woke  into  being, 

Sprang  into  space,  resplendent  and  mighty 

Lord  everlasting.      Last  of  his  marvellous 

Mighty  creations  was  man,  O  king, 

Made  in  his  image.      He  early  dishonored 

That  form  and  fashion,  foully  did  anger 

The  God  who  had  given  him  glory  and  honor 

O'er  all  His  creation.     On  through  the  ages, 

Though  man  did  despise  Him,  the  mercy  and  pity 

And  goodness  of  God,  growing,  expanding, 

Waxed  so  mighty,  widening,  deepening, 

That  He  sent  His  son  to  save  and  redeem  the 

Children  of  Adam  from  endless,  hopeless 

Death  and  destruction.     Dear  king  Ethelbert, 

Hear  thou  and  hearken  Heaven's  sweet  message 

Of  pardon  and  peace.      Pray  to  the  Father, 

God  all-gracious,  to  grant  thee  His  favor, 

Give  thee  His  grace,  with  glory,  honor, 

Abundance  of  bliss  to  bless  thee  in  heaven 

When  death  shall  subdue  thee.    The  day  is  approaching, 

When  the  God-man  mighty,  though  grievously  scouted, 

Rejected  of  men,  jeered  at  and  taunted, 


Angus  fine.  69 

Spurned  and  despised,  spit  upon,  hated, 

Nailed  to  His  cross,  shall  come  for  to  judge  the 

Quick  and  the  dead,  dealing  His  justice 

Unerring  to  all  men.     Ethelbert  dear, 

Kings  too  shall  cringe  and  crawl  at  His  footstool, 

If  angry  His  visage.     He  only  is  mighty, 

We  are  but  weaklings."     The  ward  of  the  kingdom, 

Ethelbert  atheling,  answer  did  render  : 

"  Gracious  Augustine,  good  and  kind  are 

Your  word-offers  winsome  ;  yet  wot  I  but  little 

What  answer  to  make  to  message  so  wondrously 

New  and  unheard  of.     I  needs  must  ponder  it 

Well  with  my  wise  ones.     Wait  patiently 

Here  on  this  island.     No  hindrance  from  me 

Shall  let  or  delay  you."     The  lord  of  the  Kentmen, 

Offspring  of  Hengist,  early  did  call  them 

West  over  Wantsum  to  his  well-loved,  far-famous 

Borough  and  city  which  the  bones  of  Augustine 

Have  hallowed  for  ages,  excellent  shepherd, 

Peace-bringing,  pardoning  pilgrim  of  mercy, 

Hateful  to  hell-folk.     Happy,  rejoicing, 

Grateful  to  God,  the  good  ones  proceeded, 

Marching,  tramping,  measuredly  treading, 

Entered  the  borough  where  early,  unhindered, 

They  preached  the  precious,  peace-bringing  message 

Of  mercy  and  pardon.     Once  more  'neath  the  sky,  then, 

Was  lifted  aloft  the  Lord's  dear  image  ; 

The  meek,  unmurmuring,  merciful  Saviour, 

Deathless  Redeemer,  down  on  His  liegemen 

Bent  looks  that  were  loving.     They  lifted  their  voices 


70  Old  English  Idyls. 

Sweetly,  softly,  singing  in  measures 

Plaintive  and  pleading  with  penitence  breathing 

(Heard  up  in  heaven) :  "  Hear  us,  we  pray  Thee, 

Lord  everlasting.     Let  now  Thine  anger 

Be  turned  away  far  from  this  fond-loved  city 

And  Thy  house  all-holy.     Hear  us  in  mercy, 

For  we  all  have  angered  Thee.     Alleluia,  Amen." 

Onward,  forward  fared,  then,  the  holy  ones, 

Heralds  of  heaven,  hopeful  and  joyous, 

Brave-mooded,  bright-hearted  bearing  before  them 

Christ  on  His  cross  calmly,  triumphantly, 

Meekly  but  mightily  making  His  entry 

As  king  of  the  Kentmen,  come  to  His  throne 

As  lord  of  all  Albion.  —  Ethelbert  soon 

Eagerly,  ardently  opened  his  heart  to 

The  message  of  love  that  the  men  of  the  southland 

Gave  him  from  God.     Gladly,  meekly, 

Sweetly  received  he  the  saving,  laving, 

Soul-washing  waters.     The  word  of  the  Lord 

Waxed  mighty  in  Kentland.     Many  then  came 

Blithe  to  the  blessed  baths  of  salvation, 

The  washing  of  pardon.     The  waters  of  Swale 

Clapped  their  glad  hands  when  hundreds  and  thousands 

Of  penitent  pagans  were  purged  of  their  sins 

And  cleansed  in  those  currents.     'T  was  comely,  fitting 

And  seemly,  forsooth,  the  souls  of  those  throngs  should 

Be  redeemed  from  death  in  that  clear-loved  season, 

The  Yule-tide  hour,  when  all  of  the  far-sundered 

Children  of  God  give  glory  and  honor 

And  praise  and  power  and  princely  dominion 


Augustine.  71 

To  the  Babe  that  was  born  in  Bethlehem  Judah, 

Most  blessed  of  bairns  :  the  birth  of  those  souls  was 

Hailed  up  in  heaven  as  highly  beseeming 

The  day  that  is  honored  of  earth-folk  and  races 

For  that  world-saving,  hell-shaking,  wonderful,  holy 

Birth  in  the  manger.  —  Bold-mooded  forward, 

To  the  south  and  the  north,  never  retreating, 

Eastward,  westward,  the  armies  of  Jesus, 

Tramping,  marching,  trod  to  the  battle 

With  the  demons  and  devils  that  dwelt  in  that  heathenish 

Isle  of  the  ocean.     Early  did  Gregory, 

Sweet-mooded,  soul-loving  servant  of  Heaven, 

Humbly  but  ardently  offer  his  praises 

That  the  speech  which  of  yore  was  used  in  the  heathenish, 

Paganish  rites  was  pouring  forth  now 

Loud  hallelujahs  and  long-resounding 

Hosannas  abounding.  —  The  blessed,  holy, 

Gracious  Augustine,  God's  dear  messenger, 

Precious  apostle,  passed  to  the  care  of 

The  Father  Almighty,  fared  on  his  journey, 

Fearless,  unflinching,  faithful  and  dauntless, 

Gave  up  the  ghost.     God-Father  called  him 

Hence  to  the  heavens.     Hands  that  were  loving, 

Mournful  and  tender,  took  up  the  good  one's 

Dwelling  of  clay,  dear-loved  bone-house, 

Bare  it  to  burial :  the  best  of  him  mounted 

Up  through  the  ether  to  All-Father's  blessed 

Home  of  the  soul,  where  saints  of  all  ages 

Do  rest  from  their  labors.     Beloved  companions 

Gave  to  the  grave  Augustine's  dear  ashes, 


72  Old  English  Idyls. 

His  life-house  beloved  ;  laid  him  to  rest,  then, 
Where  fond-loving  fathers,  confessors  and  martyrs 
And  penitent  pilgrims  might  press  to  his  shrine 
And  utter  their  prayers  and  praises  to  Him  who 
Gave  grace  to  Augustine,  and  guided  him  hither 
On  mission  of  mercy.     His  memory  ever 
Be  honored  of  England,  and  ocean  and  river 
And  flood  and  field,  folk-kindreds,  races, 
And  all  of  the  Anglians  give  unending  praise, 
Majesty,  might,  dominion  and  power 
And  glory  to  God,  who  gave  them  salvation. 


VII. 

ALFRED. 

Lo  !  in  song,  legend,  saga  and  story, 
We  ever  have  heard  of  Alfred,  dear-loved 
Father  of  England,  offspring  of  Woden, 
Honored,  eminent  atheling,  folk-prince, 
Hoard-ward  of  heroes.     Harpers,  gleemen, 
Minstrels  of  eld,  mindful  of  rhythms, 
Weavers  of  words,  have  well  heralded 
The  daring  and  dauntless  deeds  of  that  noble, 
Well-loved,  war-famed,  wide-ruling  liegelord 
Of  England  of  old.     Ethelwulf  passed, 
Folk-lord  of  Wessex,  forth  on  his  journey, 
Laid  down  his  life- joys  ;  not  long  tarried 
After  Judith,  the  elf-bright,  gem-bedecked  lady, 
Fairest  of  folk-queens,  fared  on  her  way  to 
The  Father  of  Spirits.     Four  good  athelings 
Were  born  of  his  body,  broadly-famed  princes, 
The  kingdom's  dear  shepherds.     Most  kingly  of  these 
Was  the  great  earl  Alfred  ;  'mid  all  of  the  races 
Far  was  he  famed.     When  few  were  his  winters 
God- Father  marked  him  for  glory,  honor, 
And  life  everlasting ;  for  Leo,  the  holy 
Servant  of  Heaven,  received  him  and  owned  him  as 
Godson  beloved  ;  the  good  one  promised, 

73 


74  Old  English  Idyls. 

That  Alfred,  the  infant,  should  ever  continue 
The  faithful  soldier  and  servant  of  Jesus 
While  his  life-days  lasted.     Then  Leo,  eminent 
Keeper  of  Kings,  crowned  him,  hallowed  him, 
Blessed  him  abundantly,  bade  them  to  take  him 
Back  to  his  kingdom  :  no  curse  could  then  reach  him, 
Hell  could  not  hurt  him,  for  Heaven  had  touched  him 
With  hands  hallowing.  —  A  hero  in  battle  was 
Alfred  in  youth-days.     Eastward,  westward, 
From  ocean  to  ocean,  ever  intrepidly 
He  followed  his  brave-hearted  brothers  and  liegelords, 
In  the  fight  foremost,  was  fain  of  the  battle, 
Exulted  in  carnage,  would  crush  and  destroy  the 
Eell-mooded,  frantic,  fierce-hearted  Danemen 
That  warred  upon  Wessex.     Wide-famed,  terrible, 
Well-nigh  invincible  was  a  viking  and  sea-dog 
Rollo  entitled  :  he  rode  on  his  sea-boats 
Westward  and  southward,  seeking  to  reach  the 
Fair  and  far-renowned,  foam-beaten,  sea-washed 
Shores  of  the  English.     Up  in  their  rivers,  then, 
Flew  the  Norse  Raven  ;  Rollo  was  mighty, 
Broad  his  renown  ;  there  was  none  thwarted  him 
'Mid  all  the  brave  earth-folk,  till  England's  hero-chiefs, 
Alfred  and  Ethelred,  excellent  warriors, 
Dared  to  defy  him,  drove  him  to  seaward, 
Off  to  the  eastward  ;  not  eager  was  Rollo 
To  lie  in  a  grave  in  this  land  of  the  brave, 
This  fond-loved  fatherland  favored  of  Heaven, 
Fairest  of  folk-lands  ;  he  found  it  but  bootless 
To  grapple  with  God,  who  had  given  great  Alfred 


Alfred.  75 

The  might  and  the  mind  to  make  of  those  restless 

Races  contentious  a  true  and  a  mighty 

People  and  nation.     The  Northman  Rollo, 

War-king  and  viking,  was  warned  in  a  vision, 

Liegelord  beloved,  that  the  land  of  the  Anglians 

Was  not  to  be  his,  but  that  Heaven  had  willed  it 

To  others  forever,  and  early  he  hied  then 

O'er  the  seas  southward  to  seek  'mid  the  Frankmen 

For  land  and  for  country.  —  The  kingdom  of  Wessex 

Fell  then  in  time  to  the  trusty  young  hero, 

Battle-famed  Alfred,  brother  of  Ethelred, 

Offspring  of  Ethelwulf ;  honored  of  all  men 

Wisely  he  wielded  Wessex  dominions 

A  thirty  of  winters.     He  thirsted,  panted  for 

Worship  and  honor,  but  ever,  the  rather, 

Sought  for,  fought  for,  unceasingly  thought  for, 

The  weal  of  the  well-loved  warmen  and  heroes 

And  earlmen  of  England  :  forever  and  ever 

His  name  shall  be  honored.  —  Ethelred  passed,  then, 

Forth  on  his  way,  ward  of  the  kingdom, 

God-light  elected  :  gracious,  high-hearted 

Alfred  the  atheling  was  early  thereafter 

Lord  of  all  England.     Not  e'er  heard  I 

Of  man-ruler  mightier  in  middle-earth's  regions, 

Of  prince  so  puissant,  peerless,  invincible 

On  all  the  broad  earth  that  ocean  washeth 

With  weltering  waves.     Wise  was  Alfred 

E'en  in  his  youth-days  :  ever  he  yearned  for 

Goodness  and  wisdom  ;  of  wealth  and  of  honor 

Recked  he  but  little.  —  Rollo  departed 


76  Old  English  Idyls. 

Forth  into  Frank-land  :  the  fearless,  terrific, 

Dire-mooded  Danemen  dared  not  grapple  with 

Alfred  and  Ethelred,  honored,  beloved 

Athelings  of  England  ;  but  there  after  came  the 

Horrid  and  horrible  hordes  of  the  terrible, 

Libidinous,  lecherous,  barbarous,  treacherous 

Robbers  and  pirates,  plundering,  ravaging 

This  isle  of  the  ocean,  England,  the  clearest 

And  fairest  of  fatherlands.     Fights  there  were  many, 

Most  bitter  of  battles  ;  bravely  did  Wessex's 

Princes  and  people  play  with  the  edges, 

Facing  the  fearless,  frantic,  implacable 

Dogs  of  the  northland,  the  never-relenting 

Wolves  of  the  waters.  —  War-famed  Alfred, 

Battle-grim  earl,  was  e'er  in  the  forefront 

Facing  the  foeman  ;  few  were  his  winters,  but 

Mighty  his  valor.     Much  hath  been  told  me 

Of  Aescesdune,  where  Danemen  in  multitudes 

Bowed  in  the  battle,  biting  the  dust  when  the 

Heroes  of  Wessex,  henchmen  and  vassals  of 

Alfred  and  Ethelred  with  onset  of  battle  did 

Fall  on  the  foeman.     Far-famous  Ethelred, 

Leaving  the  altar,  then,  leaped  to  the  battle, 

Rushed  to  the  slaughter-field  ;  slew  with  his  hand-blows, 

Smote  with  his  sword-stroke,  a  savage  and  terrible, 

Cruel  and  murderous  king  of  the  Northmen, 

Felled  him  to  earthward  ;  and  fond-loved  Alfred, 

Earlmen  and  atheling,  out  into  battle  went 

Trusting  in  God,  who  giveth  the  victory 

As  best  to  Him  seemeth.     Bravely  Alfred, 


Alfred.  77 

Brother  of  Ethelred,  out  to  the  battle  went, 

Facing  the  fierce,  fire-eating,  devilish 

Sons  of  the  northland  ;  he  swung  mightily 

His  battle-famed  brand  ;  he  bit  right  fiercely, 

Heirloom  of  ages  ;  the  excellent  sword-blade 

Failed  not  in  battle.      Five  good  earls,  then, 

Put  to  sleep  with  the  sword,  sank  to  the  earth, 

Sidroc  the  elder  and  Sidroc  the  younger, 

Osbern  and  Fraena  and  fair-haired  Harold, 

Eagle-eyed  athelings  :   't  was  Alfred's  good  falchion 

That  stretched  these  stout-hearted,  sturdy,  relentless 

Earls  of  the  ocean  out  under  heaven, 

In  the  dust  dead  there.     The  deeds  of  the  hero, 

Eminent  atheling,  brought  awe  to  the  hearts  of 

The  dogs  of  the  northland  :  there  was  none  braved  him, 

All  of  them  feared  him.     Off  then  the  heathen 

Hurried  and  scurried  ;  scampered  and  sped  they, 

Sheep-like  fled  they.      Famed  was  Alfred, 

Offspring  of  Ethelwulf  :  eastward,  westward, 

To  the  north  and  the  south,  singers  and  minstrels 

Published  his  praises  ;  proudly,  gleemen,  then, 

New  word-groups  wove,  wishing  but  vainly 

To  rehearse  but  the  half  of  the  hero-atheling's 

Wonderful  deeds,  his  war-skill,  prowess, 

His  craft  and  cunning  in  quelling  the  drunken, 

Gluttonous,  murderous  men  of  the  northland, 

Robbers  and  reavers.     In  rhythmical  measures, 

In  hamlet  and  hall,  the  hero  was  lauded. 

Song- wrights  sang,  then,  that,  southward  or  northward, 

'Twixt  arms  of  the  ocean,  'mid  all  of  the  races, 


78  Old  English  Idyls. 

No  one  of  earlmen,  older  or  younger, 

Was  so  brave-hearted,  bold -mood  eel,  battle-distinguished, 

Exalted  in  honor,  as  Alfred,  youthful 

War-lord  of  Wessex.     The  wise  young  folk-leader, 

Bairn  of  Ethelwulf,  bade  then  a  white-horse, 

As  emblem  of  honor  in  England  forever, 

Be  carved  on  a  cliff  close  to  the  battle-field, 

On  a  high  hill-side,  that  heroes  thereafter 

Might  see  it  and  say  't  was  a  sign  and  token 

How  Alfred  atheling  at  Ashdown  drove  the 

White  horse  of  Wessex  o'er  the  horrible,  murderous, 

Lustful  and  lecherous,  lying  and  treacherous 

Devils  of  Daneland,  the  damned,  implacable 

Foemen  of  Heaven.     But  the  fierce,  terrible 

Pirates  and  plunderers,  the  proud,  defiant 

Fiends  of  the  mainland,  minded  but  little 

To  leave  the  dear  land  they  long  had  been  harassing, 

Hacking  and  sacking  ;  they  soon  came  back  again  ; 

As  the  sands  on  the  seashore  seemed  they  in  numbers, 

Burning  and  ravaging,  robbing  and  pillaging, 

They  wasted  the  well-loved  winsome,  beautiful, 

Ocean-encircled  isle  of  the  Anglians 

With  sword  and  with  fire,  swooping  down  on  it 

Hawk-like,  bitterly  :  Heaven  permitted  it, 

God  had  forgot  us.     Grief,  agony, 

Saddest  of  sorrows,  seized  hard  on  the 

Earlmen  of  England  ;  they  all  feared  then, 

Their  beloved  land  lost  was  forever, 

Fond-loved  fatherland.     Few  of  them  hoped 

(Though  well  they  did  wish  it),  wan-mooded  heroes, 


Alfred.  79 

That   their  land  would   be  saved  from   the   loathsome, 

venomous 

Foemen  and  fiends,  the  fell-moocled,  hateful, 
Drunken  and  murderous  men  of  the  ocean, 
Hot-mooded  hell-hounds.     None  hoped,  trusted 
Save  Alfred  the  king :  he  ever  relied  on 
The  word  of  the  Lord,  who  leadeth  His  people 
With  a  mighty  hand  and  helpeth  His  chosen 
With  outstretched  arm.     He  only  could  save  us 
When  hell  was  an-hungered.  —  Heart-wretched,  weary, 
The  beloved  Alfred  looked  for  a  place  where, 
Fleeing  the  fury  of  the  fierce,  implacable 
Pirates  and  robbers,  he  might  ponder  his  country's 
Sadness  and  sorrow,  and  safely  plan  for  her 
Welfare  and  weal.     Where  the  waters  of  Parret 
And  Thone  commingle,  a  marish-encompassed 
Island  he  wist  of,  off  in  the  waters, 
Westward  in  Wessex  ;  well-loved  Alfred, 
Kindest  of  kings,  called  it  Athelney, 
Isle  of  the  athelings  :  —  let  England  love  that 
Meadowy  marshland  and  moorland  forever, 
The  island  of  Athelney,  where  of  old  great  Alfred, 
The  best  of  her  sons,  sighed  for  his  liegemen, 
Where  the  holy  hermit,  homeless  and  wretched, 
Lovingly  looked  to  the  Lord-God  and  prayed  Him 
Quickly  to  come  to  his  country  and  people 
With  help  from  on  high.  —  While  here  patiently 
Possessing  his  soul,  sweetly  awaiting 
What  the  Lord  should  allot  him,  he  looked,  and  behold  ! 
Stood  there  before  him  a  foot-weary  pilgrim 


So  Old  English  Idyls. 

Begging  for  bread.     Blithely  Alfred, 

Heaven's  dear  almoner,  urged  that  the  little 

Wine  that  was  left  him  and  the  one  small  loaf 

Of  bread  should  be  brought  him  :  then  both  gladly 

He  shared  with  the  pilgrim.     He  passed  on  his  journey, 

Thanking  the  king.     The  thanemen,  returning, 

Looked  on  the  loaf,  and  lo !  it  was  whole,  and 

The  flask  as  full  as  when  first  he  had  brought  it, 

Though  deep  he  had  drunken.     The  dear  one  of  Heaven 

Mused  and  marvelled  what  meaning  to  see  in 

All  that  had  happened,  and  how  the  poor  stranger, 

Having  no  keel  had  come  to  that  island 

Off  in  the  waters.     And  early  anon,  then, 

The  fishers  of  Alfred  fared  them  to  homeward, 

Blithehearted  boasting  that  their  boats  were  laden 

As  ne'er  he  had  known  them.     Anew  did  Alfred 

Muse  on  the  marvel,  the  mighty-famed  lord 

Did  exceedingly  wonder.  —  Wakeful  and  restless, 

Alfred  in  trouble  tossed  on  his  pillow, 

(His  sleep  forsook  him),  when  he  saw  all  around  him 

A  luminous  light  likest  the  sun's  when  he 

Streameth  at  noonday,  and  standing  before  him 

A  raven-haired  man  mitred  and  vested, 

Who  held  in  his  hand  the  holy,  beloved 

Book  of  the  Gospels,  with  gold  and  with  jewels 

Brightly  embellished.     He  blessed,  then,  the  king, 

The  old  one  the  younger  ;  earnestly  spake  he 

To  the  excellent  atheling  :  "  Alfred,  my  son, 

Take  heart  and  rejoice,  for,  behold  !  the  poor  pilgrim 

Thou  feddest  to-day  before  thee  is  standing, 


Alfred.  8 1 

Cuthbert,  the  soldier  and  servant  of  Jesus, 

The  Lord  everlasting.      Be  light-hearted,  strong, 

And  exceeding  courageous,  ruler  of  Wessex  ; 

For  I  henceforth  am  thy  friend  and  buckler, 

Thy  watchman  and  ward,  and  well  I  shall  help  thee, 

Thee  and  thy  sons.     Soon  thou  shalt  vanquish 

The  foes  of  thy  kingdom :  the  Father  in  heaven, 

The  God  of  Glory,  hath  given  this  spacious 

Island  of  Albion  to  Alfred,  his  servant, 

To  have  and  to  hold,  and,  when  hence  thou  goest, 

To  thy  offspring  after  thee.     Excellent  man, 

Rule  in  righteousness  :  then  riches  and  power 

And  honor  and  glory  shall  ever  attend  thee 

And  the  Father  defend  thee."     The  fond-loved  king, 

Earl  of  the  Anglians,  was  eager  in  spirit, 

Relied  on  the  Lord,  would  look  for  the  foeman, 

The  harrying  heathen  ;  his  heart  then  trusted 

In  God  and  Saint  Cuthbert.     He  came  to  the  mainland 

And  blew  on  his  bugle,  that  his  brave-mooded  heroes 

Might  know  he  had  landed  to  lead  them  battleward 

Forth  'gainst  the  foeman.      Few  of  them  lingered,  then, 

Brave-hearted  battle-thanes  ;  blithely  they  hastened 

To  look  for  the  lord  whom  long  they  had  waited  for 

Lovingly,  trustfully.     They  leaped  into  battle, 

God  was  their  helper :  the  heathen  were  slaughtered, 

The  forces  of  Daneland  fled  them  and  sped  them 

From  the  teeth  of  the  boar  who  bit  them  and  slit  them 

And  sliced  them  in  slivers.     Southward,  northward, 

Eastward  and  westward,  through  Angle  dominions, 

And  far  o'er  the  flood-deeps,  'mid  folks,  kindreds 


82  Old  English  Idyls. 

And  nations  unnumbered,  't  was  known,  bruited 

That  folk-ruling  Father  was  fighting  for  England 

And  had  sent  His  saint  to  say  that  this  spacious 

Island  of  Albion  should  ever  be  Alfred's 

And  his  offspring's  after  him.     The  excellent  prince, 

Warrior  of  Wessex,  wise  over  all  men, 

Waxed  not  arrogant ;  ever  he  minded 

That  't  was  God  had  given  him  glory  and  honor 

And  fame  'mid  the  races,  and  that  Father  Almighty 

Exalteth  one  and  humbleth  another 

As  seemeth  Him  proper ;  and  he  pondered  in  spirit 

How  the  old  and  clever  king  of  the  Danemen, 

Gracious  and  grateful,  good-mooded  folk-lord, 

Did  warn  the  well-loved,  wide-famed,  distinguished, 

Battle-brave  Beowulf,  bravest  of  earlmen : 

"  Beware  of  arrogance,  world-famous  champion  ! 

But  a  little-while  lasts  thy  life-vigor's  fulness  ; 

'Twill  after  hap  early  that  illness  or  sword-edge 

Shall  part  thee  from  strength,  or  the  grasp  of  the  fire, 

Or  the  wave  of  the  current,  or  the  clutch  of  the  edges, 

Or  the  flight  of  the  war-spear,  or  age  with  its  horrors, 

Or  thy  eyes'  bright  flashing  shall  fade  into  darkness  ; 

'Twill  happen  full  early,  excellent  hero, 

That  death  shall  subdue  thee."     So  dear-loved  Alfred 

Gave  unto  God  the  glory  for  all  his 

Deeds  of  daring  ;  dauntless,  vauntless, 

Ruled  he  in  righteousness  ;  he  recked  not  of  sorrow, 

His  help  was  in  heaven.     The  hero-in-battle 

Exceeded  all  other  earth-kings  and  rulers 

In  largeness  of  heart,  beloved  folk-chieftain, 


Alfred.  83 

Father  of  England  ;  he  far  excelled  them 

In  wisdom  and  goodness  ;  worked  out  a  kingdom 

To  stand  through  the  ages  ;  established  the  throne 

Of  England  forever.     Early  he  reached  his 

Measure  of  days  :  death  then  took  him 

Off  from  his  earth-scenes,  up  to  the  keeping 

Of  the  Lord  everlasting.  —  In  legend  and  story 

Oft  have  I  heard  how  Alfred  the  atheling, 

Refuge  of  heroes,  hied  to  the  camp  of 

Guthrum  the  Dane  in  guise  of  a  minstrel 

With  harp  in  hand  ;  ne'er  heard  I  that  folk-king 

Did  deed  so  audacious,  daring,  adventuresome 

'Neath  dome  of  the  heavens,  as  the  doughty,  invincible 

Atheling  of  England.     To  Athelney  came  he, 

Back  to  his  troopers,  told  them  how  indolent, 

Sluggish  and  dull  the  Danemen  were  lolling 

Secure  in  their  camp,  and  how  quickly  forsooth 

A  handful  of  heroes  could  harry  and  scatter  the 

Lazy,  lecherous,  lying  and  treacherous 

Devils  of  Daneland.     The  undaunted  earlmen 

Were  eager  for  battle,  urged  him  to  lead  them 

Forth  'gainst  the  foeman  :  few  of  them  wished  to 

Stay  from  the  struggle,  but  stoutly  like  heroes, 

Looked  for  the  reaving,  robbing,  murderous 

Foes  of  their  fatherland ;  found  them,  and  gave  them 

Arrows  for  tribute,  the  ash-wood  spear 

And  swipe  of  the  sword-blade.     The  sons  of  the  Angles 

Gave  them  no  gold,  but  grimmest  of  edges, 

Bite  of  the  battle-blade.     The  brand  of  Alfred 

Failed  not  in  fight,  fiercely  did  bite  ; 


84  Old  English  Idyls. 

The  hungriest  of  hand-swords  hankered  for  flesh,  then, 

Foremost  in  battle :  the  blood  of  the  foemen 

Ran  then  in  rivers.     The  raven  was  glad, 

Bird  of  the  battle,  was  busily  eating 

The  flesh  of  the  fallen.     The  feathery  eagle, 

Death-swooper  dusky,  down  from  his  eyrie 

Flew  to  the  feast,  too.     That  fallow-skinned  beast,  too, 

The  wolf  of  the  weald,  waxing  exultant, 

Came  to  the  carnage  ;  he  crunched  and  he  munched  the 

Bones  on  the  battle-field.     Blithe  were  they  all,  then, 

Fierce-mooded  feasters,  filled  to  the  full 

Their  craws  and  their  maws,  most  cruel,  gluttonous 

Of  birds  and  of  beast-kind.  —  The  braves  of  the  northland 

Were  beaten  in  battle,  bold,  audacious 

Men  of  the  waters  ;  wished  they  but  little 

To  leave  the  dear  land  they  long  had  been  harrying, 

Sacking  and  hacking ;  but  Heaven  was  against  them, 

Fought  for  the  far-famed,  fond-loved,  God-fearing 

Atheling  Alfred,  England's  distinguished 

Friend-lord  and  father.     The  folk-prince  Guthrum 

(So  urgent  was  Alfred)  early  did  come  to  the 

Baths  of  salvation,  the  blessed,  holy 

Waters  of  cleansing  for  kings  and  for  athelings, 

For  serfs  and  for  slaves.     The  servant  of  Heaven, 

Alfred  the  holy,  was  eager  to  greet  him 

As  brother  in  Christ,  became  the  brave  viking's 

Godfather  faithful.     Guthrum  blithely,  then, 

The  sign  of  the  cross  received  on  his  brow, 

In  sign  that  thereafter  he  e'er  should  continue 

True  soldier  and  servant  of  his  Saviour  and  liegelord 


Alfred.  85 

Till  his  life-days  ended  ;  and,  along  of  his  christening, 

\Yas  given  the  name  of  Guthrum-Athelstan, 

In  token  that  thereafter  the  erst-cruel  heathen 

Was  a  noble  stone  in  the  strong,  immovable 

House  of  the  Lord.  —  Then,  lavish  and  bountiful, 

Alfred,  the  king  honored  and  feasted 

Guthrum  his  godson,  gave  him  abundantly 

Jewels  and  gems  ;  generous-mooded, 

Failed  not  to  give  gift-tokens  many 

To  Guthrum's  good  troopers,  true-hearted  liegemen, 

Trusty  retainers.     'T  is  told  us  in  story 

That  Alfred,  the  liegelord,  was  lavish  of  jewels, 

(A  good  king  he  !)  withheld  no  gifts  from 

Kinsmen  and  thanes  ;  so  a  king  should  be  ever, 

Dispensing  his  spacious,  splendid,  abundant 

Bounty  to  earlmen,  and  ever  rejoicing  the 

Hearts  of  good  heroes  that  Heaven  hath  given  him 

To  love  as  his  liegemen.  —  The  land-ruler  mighty, 

England's  dear  king,  was  kindest  of  princes, 

Gentle  in  spirit,  generous-mooded, 

Lavish  of  jewels  ;  gems  in  abundance 

He  gave  his  dear  earlmen  ;  forgot  not  but  minded 

The  wretched  around  him,  recked  not  of  earthly 

Praise  and  requital,  cared  he  but  little 

To  be  seen  of  men,  seeking  the  rather 

The  smile  of  the  Father.     Freely,  gladly, 

He  offered  his  alms  for  altars  and  minsters 

And  shrines  of  the  saints,  sure  of  requital 

Not  here  but  in  heaven.     To  the  Holy  City 

He  sent  of  his  treasure,  trusty,  beloved 


86  Old  English  Idyls. 

Child  of  the  Church  ;  she  had  chosen  him  early, 

Sealed  him  and  signed  him  to  save  his  dear  land  from 

Heathen  and  hell-men  ;  she  had  helped  him  right  stoutly, 

Dear  Bride  of  the  Lord.  —  The  blessed  Marinus, 

Vicar  of  Heaven,  heard  of  the  goodness 

Of  England's  dear  Alfred,  and  early  did  send  him, 

Precious  apostle,  a  piece  of  the  Rood 

The  dear  Lord  had  died  on  ;  the  darling  of  Heaven, 

Alfred  the  holy,  handled  it  reverently, 

Tenderly  took  it,  touched  it  gently 

With  lips  that  were  loving,  looking  upon  it 

With  eyes  that  were  eager ;  often  caressing  it, 

To  his  bosom  pressing  it,  blessing  and  praising 

The  King  of  all  kings,  kindest  of  liegelords, 

Who  had  left  his  celestial,  delightsome,  perennial 

Home  in  the  heavens,  and  hastened  to  earthward 

To  seek  Him  a  cross  to  suffer  and  die  on, 

That  the  king  and  the  clown  might  come  and  receive 

their 

Father's  forgiveness,  freely  might  have  it 
All  for  the  asking.  —  Alfred  rejoiced, 
Was  thankful  of  heart  to  the  holy  Marinus, 
Beloved,  blessed  bishop,  apostle 
And  Vicar  of  Christ  ;  called  he  around  him 
His  excellent  earlmen  all  that  were  near  him, 
High-mooded  henchmen  ;  his  holy,  pious 
Dear-loved  mother  ;  the  modest,  faithful 
Wife  of  his  bosom,  well-loved  folk-queen, 
Saintly  Elswitha  ;  with  the  sweet,  obedient 
Bairns  of  his  body  ;  the  beautiful  boy, 


Alfred.  87 

Edward  the  atheling,  who  after  him  wielded 

The  island  of  Albion  ;  Ethelswitha, 

Ethelfleda  and  other  dear  maidens 

Whom  God  had  given  them,  and  graciously  showed  them 

The  piece  of  the  Rood  that  Marinus  had  sent  him, 

Priest  and  apostle,  praising  the  goodness 

Of  God's  dear  servant.     Said  then  Alfred, 

Henchman  of  heaven,  holy,  beloved 

Earl  of  the  English  :  "  Let  all  who  behold  me 

Thank  the  dear  God  for  the  gift  He  hath_sent  me, 

Richest  of  relics.     The  rood  of  the  Saviour 

Long-while  was  lost ;  little  did  earthmen 

Know  where  to  find  it.     Folk  of  the  races 

Sought  it  but  vainly,  till  the  saintly,  beloved 

Holy  Helena,  Heaven's  dear  daughter, 

With  faith  all  fervent  fared  on  her  journey 

Through  all  the  broad  earth  —  eastward,  westward, 

Sought  for  the  wood  her  Saviour  had  hallowed 

When  He  died  to  redeem  her.     The  dauntless,  courageous 

one, 

Dear-mooded  woman,  went  on  her  pilgrimage, 
Mother  of  Constantine,  minding  no  perils  and 
Fearing  no  foeman,  fared  'mid  the  world-races, 
Urging  the  earlmen,  all  who  would  hearken  her, 
To  help  her  to  find  the  fond-loved,  precious 
And  long-lost  rood  her  Lord  had  been  nailed  to, 
When  He  came  to  His  own  and  His  own  rejected  Him 
And  cut  Him  a  cross,  and  crowned  Him  in  mockery 
With  thistles  and  thorns.     Thought  she  and  trusted 
That  Heaven  would  graciously  guide  her  in  seeking 


88  Old  English  Idyls. 

The  beloved  wood  her  Lord  had  been  bound  to, 

And  the  nails  that  had  bitten  the  blessed,  loving  One's 

Hands  and  His  feet,  harried  Him  cruelly, 

Unpityingly  pierced  Him.     Prayed  she  unceasing!}', 

Handmaid  of  Heaven,  her  heart  ne'er  failing  her, 

That  the  Glory  of  Kings  would  grant  her  to  find  the 

Cross  and  the  nails,  would  nowise  refuse  her 

A  boon  so  blessed.     Brave  in  her  spirit, 

Sinless,  undaunted,  she  dreaded  no  peril  but 

Fared  on  her  pilgrimage  far  to  the  eastward 

'Neath  suns  that  were  seething,  o'er  seas  that  tumbled 

And  oceans  that  grumbled,  o'er  endless  expanses  of 

Meadow  and  moorland,  and  mountains  that  icily 

Glinted  and  glistened,  o'er  the  gurgling  currents 

Of  rivers  that  rapidly  ran  in  their  gravelly, 

Pebbly  channels,  chafingly,  ragingly 

Seeking  the  sea.     Sought  she  not  vainly, 

Most  pious  of  pilgrims,  precious,  faithful 

Daughter  of  Heaven  ;  the  Holy  One  gave  her 

To  find  in  the  earth  His  own  clear  glory-tree, 

Victory-wood.     The  Wielder  of  heaven 

Had  kept  from  decay  the  cross  He  had  died  on, 

Saviour  of  sinners,  safely  had  kept  it 

To  gladden  the  eyes  of  earthmen  unnumbered 

In  all  of  the  earth-regions.     7  may  now  praise  Him 

For  the  sight  that  I  see,  sooth-fast  Creator, 

Lord  everlasting.     As  I  look  with  mine  eyes 

On  this  well-loved  treasure  the  World-Father  sent  me, 

This  piece  of  the  Rood,  the  poet's  clear  vision 

Meseemeth  my  own,  and  I  see  in  my  dream-thought 


Alfred.  89 

The  Cross  of  the  Crucified  coming  before  me, 

Tree  of  the  Saviour,  token  of  pardon, 

Saying  with  sorrow  :  '  I  saw  the  dear  hero, 

Man-ruler  mighty,  mount  to  my  bosom, 

Beg  my  embraces.      I  bitterly  rued  it 

That  fiercest  of  folkmen,  fell-mooded,  made  me 

Hurt  the  brave  hero.     No  harm  did  I  mean  him, 

But  hankered  to  save  him  ;  yet  horrible  foemen, 

Cruel  and  hateful,  held  me,  drove  me 

In  the  earth  deep  there,  till  the  excellent  hero 

Could  climb  to  my  bosom.     Then  basely  the  foemen 

Hammered  him  down  with  dreadful,  venomous 

Teeth  of  iron,  tightly  did  nail  him 

Close  to  my  bosom.     The  bites  of  the  teeth,  then, 

Pained  the  dear  earl :  in  anguish  of  spirit 

Sorrow  of  mood,  mightily  cried  he, 

And  gave  up  the  ghost.      I  grieved  in  my  heart,  then, 

Lamented  and  bemoaned  it,  that  my  sad  bosom 

Was  stained  with  the  blood-sweat  of  the  best  and  the 

dearest 

Of  all  the  brave  athelings  I  ever  had  heard  of 
'Mong  the  children  of  men.     I  mused  in  my  soul-deeps, 
Marvelled  why  cruel  ones  came  to  the  forest 
Where  long  I  had  lived  a  light-hearted  aspen, 
Hacked  me  with  axes,  then  hewed  from  my  body 
That  accursed  cross  that  the  kindest  and  gentlest 
Of  heroes  did  hang  on.     Horror  doth  seize  me, 
Trembling  and  terror :  'mid  the  trees  of  the  forest 
I  shall  quake  and  quiver  and  cower  forever.'  ' 
So  Alfred  the  good  was  grateful  in  spirit, 


90  Old  English  Idyls. 

Thankful  to  Heaven  and  the  holy  Marinus 

For  that  priceless  keepsake,  cut  from  the  tree  that 

His  dear  Lord  had  died  on.     Daily,  hourly 

He  pressed  to  his  bosom  the  precious,  sacred 

Holiest  of  relics,  reckoned  it  dearer 

Than  gems  and  jewels.  —  Generous-hearted, 

Fond-loved,  faithful  father  and  ruler 

Was  Alfred  the  atheling,  Ethelwulfs  son, 

Grandson  of  Egbert.     All  of  the  races 

Honored  the  name  of  England's  distinguished, 

Far-famous  folk-lord  ;  afar  and  anear 

Earlmen  honored  him,  not  any  begrudged  him 

The  title  of  father  and  friend  to  his  people, 

Beloved  land-prince.  —  Long  did  Alfred 

Bear  in  his  body  the  burden  of  pain, 

Sadly  did  surfer.      Himseemed  the  torture 

Was  given  of  God,  the  good  and  loving 

King  of  all  kings,  to  keep  His  dear  servant 

Lowly  and  humble,  lest  earthly  lustre 

Too  much  should  exalt  him,  and  his  mood  should  haughtily 

Forget  the  dear  God  who  had  given  him  glory 

And  honor  'mid  earthmen.      So  Alfred  patiently 

Bare  his  great  burden  blithely,  resignedly 

Many  a  winter,  till  wise-mooded  God-Father, 

Ruler  of  heaven,  was  ready  to  call  him 

To  lay  down  the  life  that  long  had  burdened  him 

Here  among  men  and  mount  on  his  soul's-wings 

To  that  land  celestial  where  the  Lord-God  wipeth 

Tears  from  all  eyes,  and  where  anguish  and  sorrow 

And  pain  and  crying  cometh  no  more 


Alfred.  91 

Forever  and  ever.  —  Alfred  departed, 

Seeking  the  Father,  fared  on  his  journey 

To  the  care  of  his  Lord.     Kind-loving  thanemen 

And  earlmen  of  Wessex  bewailed  and  lamented 

The  death  of  the  dear  one.     Dead  was  Alfred, 

Earlman  of  England  ;  not  any  could  measure 

The  sorrow  and  woe  that  welled  in  the  bosoms 

Of  all  men  of  England  when,  early  thereafter, 

They  heard  that  the  hero  hence  had  departed, 

Laid  down  his  life- joys  and  left  the  dear  people 

Whom  long  he  had  led  'gainst  loathsome  and  horrible, 

Fell-mooded  foemen.     The  folk  of  the  Anglians 

Cried  unto  God  grief-stricken,  anguished, 

Bewailing  their  woe.     Well-loved  thanemen, 

Liegemen  and  kinsmen,  laid  his  dear  soul-prison, 

His  life-house  beloved  (lorn  were  their  spirits) 

At  Wintanceaster,  the  wide-famed,  beautiful 

Abbey  of  Alfred,  where  erstwhile  in  life-days 

He  often  had  offered  alms  and  oblations 

And  prayers  and  praises  to  the  Prince  of  the  heavens, 

God  all-glorious.     They  gave  his  dear  ashes 

To  his  beloved  abbey,  to  lie  in  her  bosom 

Till  the  trumpet  shall  sound ;  his  soul  then  mounted 

Upward,  onward,  through  the  arch  of  the  heavens, 

To  the  abodes  of  the  blest,  where  abundance  of  rest 

Remaineth  for  the  weary,  and  where  way-worn  pilgrims 

And  heavy-laden  ones  can  lay  down  their  burdens 

On  one  who  would  share  them  or  willingly  bear  them. 


VIII. 
EDGAR    THE    PEACEABLE. 

Lo  !  all  of  England's  athelings  and  liegemen 
Did  well  wot  of,  warmen  distinguished, 
Eminent  heroes,  often  had  heard  of 
The  glory  of  Edgar,  Athelstan's  nephew, 
Bairn  of  Edmund,  the  brave-hearted,  war-mooded 
Heroes  of  Wessex.     With  hand-strokes  a-mighty, 
Fell  falchion-blows,  these  fierce-hearted,  valiant, 
Bold-mooded  brothers  beat  back  the  Danemen 
At  Brunan borough,  battered  the  Irishmen, 
Scattered  the  Scotmen  ;  they  scampered  like  foxes 
Northward,  westward,  waited  but  little  then 
To  hold  the  battle-field,  hurried,  scurried, 
Running  like  reindeer.      Rightly,  Edgar, 
Kinsman  of  these  two,  came  by  the  valor 
And  might  marking  him  'mid  men  of  that  wonderful 
Era  of  heroes  :  ever  't  was  told  him 
In  hall  and  bower,  by  hero  and  lady, 
By  mother  and  maid,  by  minstrel  and  scop 
As  they  fingered  the  glee-wood,  fame-deeds  reciting, 
How  his  father  and  uncles  and  other  distinguished 
And  eminent  athelings  often  had  crushed  the 
Demons  and  devils  that  dared  to  molest  their 
Fond-loved  folk-land,  fairest,  dearest, 

92 


Edgar  the  Peaceable.  93 

Elf-lovely  Albion.     Edmund  was  gone, 

Hero  of  heroes,  from  hence,  off  then, 

Eminent  atheling,  upward,  heavenward, 

Dread  of  the  Danemen.     Dead  was  Edmund  ; 

Liofa,  the  hated,  loathsome  and  treacherous, 

Sent  his  pure  soul  to  seek  All-Father's 

Light  in  the  heavens.     The  lord  of  the  Angles 

\Vas  bit  by  the  dagger  ;  death  then  bore  him 

Off  from  his  earth-joys.     Honored  and  trusty, 

Land-folk  and  liegemen  lovingly  raised 

His  soul-house  slitten  with  slashing  and  gashing, 

Bore  it  for  burial  to  the  beautiful,  winsome 

Minster  and  abbey  that  the  Arimathean 

Builded  in  Albion,  to  honor  the  name 

Of  his  dear-loved  Redeemer.     Dunstan,  the  holy, 

God's  dear  servant,  grieved,  bereaved, 

Laid  there  his  liegelord's  life-house  beloved 

Away  in  the  grave,  gave  his  dear  ashes 

To  the  dust  they  had  come  from,  while  dirges  and  anthems 

Sped  his  sweet  spirit  to  the  spacious,  ineffable 

Raptures  of  heaven.  —  There  ruled  afterward 

Edred  and  Edwy  and  Edgar  the  Peaceable 

As  athelings  of  Anglia,  all  high-hearted 

Offspring  of  Alfred,  Edgar  farthest-famed, 

Known  to  all  nations.     There  was  none  marvelled  then, 

That  Edgar  was  honored  of  all  the  great  races 

And  kindreds  of  earth,  and  was  called  the  delight 

And  honor  of  England  ;  for  an  angel's  voice 

Was  heard  from  the  heavens,  harp-like  saying, 

At  the  birth  of  the  bairn  :  "  Blessed  be  England, 


94  Old  English  Idyls. 

Peace  to  her  people,  while  the  precious  infant 

Shall  sit  on  her  throne,  and  the  saintly  Dunstan 

Liveth  his  life-days  !  "     Not  long  Edgar,  then, 

Loitered  and  lolled,  letting  the  Northmen 

Ravage  his  England  ;  but  eagerly  bade  he 

His  brave-hearted  heroes  to  build  him  a  mighty  and 

Fast-sailing  fleet  to  float  him  to  westward, 

To  look  for  the  lying,  lecherous,  murderous, 

Pestiferous  pirates.     He  passed  o'er  the  waters, 

O'er  the  flint-gray  floods,  far  to  the  westward 

Lashing,  slashing  the  lewd  and  horrible 

Danemen  of  Erin,  and  eastward  in  triumph,  then, 

Rode  on  his  sea-steeds  ;  the  race  of  the  Welshmen, 

Fell-mooded  foemen,  he  fiercely,  bitterly, 

Savagely  slaughtered  ;  sword- weary  left  them, 

Moaning  for  mercy  ;  no  more  harried  they 

Edgar's  dear  Albion,  his  own  beloved 

Kingdom  and  fatherland.     The  faint-hearted  Welshmen 

Gladly  did  pledge  them  to  give  him  for  tribute 

Hundreds  of  wolves'-heads  ;  well  did  they  keep  this 

Bravest  of  pledges  :  their  promise  they  yearly 

Performed  to  the  full.     So  the  fell-mooded,  cruel 

Heath-tramper  grisly,  gray-coated  howler, 

Venomous  battle-beast,  vanished  from  Albion, 

No  more  murdereth  men  of  this  island, 

Nor  feeds  on  the  fallen  :  our  fathers  have  told  us 

How  he  scented  the  slaughter-field,  snuffing  the  gory 

Breezes  that  blew  from  the  battle-plain  reddened 

With  the  blood  of  the  brave,  and  buried  his  teeth  in 

The  flesh  of  the  fey.     Famed  is  Edgar, 


Edgar  the  Peaceable.  95 

Who  quelled,  killed  out  the  cruel,  carnivorous 

Wolf  of  the  weald,  the  weird,  horrible 

Beast  of  the  battle-field.  —  Brave  and  heroic, 

Edgar  did  early  humble  and  conquer 

The  foes  of  his  folk-land  ;  fled  then  the  hated 

Robbers  and  reavers  who  had  wracked,  tortured 

England  for  ages.      Earned  the  great  hero 

The  title  of  Peaceable  :  plenty,  joyance, 

Glory  and  honor  made  England,  our  mother, 

Famous  afar  as  the  fairest,  happiest, 

Most  lovesome  land  the  Lord  ever  granted  to 

Men  under  heaven.  —  While  hot  in  his  spirit 

Tow'rd  the  foe  of  his  folk-land,  far- famous  Edgar, 

Joy  of  the  Angles,  was  gentle  of  mood 

With  his  loyal  liegemen,  his  beloved,  faithful 

Trusty  retainers,  and  true  to  the  pious 

Servants  of  heaven,  the  holy,  godly 

Monks  and  abbots,  and  all  the  well-learned 

Sons  of  the  church  who  sought,  begged  his 

Counsel  and  aid  :  he  honored,  exalted 

The  priests  of  the  Lord  who  laid  on  his  altar 

Their  prayers  and  praises,  and  who,  poor,  soothly, 

As  men  count  wealth,  were  well  assured 

Of  treasure  in  heaven,  where  treacherous  moth 

And  rust  corrupteth  not,  and  reaving  and  thieving 

Are  wholly  unheard  of.  —  The  hero  forgot  not 

To  offer  Albion's  alms  and  oblations 

To  the  Prince  of  Apostles,  St.  Peter's  honored 

Vice-gerent  beloved  ;  laid  it  loyally, 

Freely  and  fondly  at  the  feet  of  the  holy 


96  Old  English  Idyls. 

Vicar  of  Heaven,  hoping,  trusting 

That  his  own  dear  England  ever  would  share 

Her  wealth,  world-riches  with  the  well-loved  Father 

And  shepherd  of  souls,  who  seeketh  not  mammon, 

Lusts  not  for  lucre,  but  lavisheth  plenty 

And  abundance  of  blessing  with  bountiful  hands 

On  the  poor  of  all  lands.  —  Princely  Edgar, 

Hoard-ward  of  heroes,  high-hearted  liegelord, 

Was  loving  and  lovesome.     The  Lady  Elfleda 

Was  the  first  of  the  fair,  fond-loved  maidens 

Whom  he  well  did  love  as  his  wife,  heart-friend, 

Folk-queen  of  earlmen  :  all  men  loved  her, 

Bowed  to  her  beauty,  boasting,  wagering 

That  Ened  the  Fair  was  the  elf-brightest,  beautifulest 

Queen  under  heaven,  called  her  the  white, 

Sighed  for  her,  would  have  died  for  her.     The  sweet, 

precious  one 

Bore  him  a  bairn,  e'er  her  beautiful  soul 
God-light  elected  :  lone-mooded,  Edgar 
Lamented  in  mourning  measure  and  rhythm 
The  loss  of  the  beloved  Lady  of  England, 
The  gracious,  graceful,  golden-haired  maiden 
Who  had  blushed  on  his  bosom,  and  beamed  at  his  side 
As  his  beautiful  bride  ;  the  bairn  he  cherished 
As  pledge  of  the  pure,  precious  embraces 
Of  his  elf-lovely  Ened.  —  The  excellent  king,  then, 
Edgar  the  Peaceable,  proudly,  serenely, 
His  sceptre  did  sway ;  off  the  seas  swept  he 
The  fleets  of  the  foeman  ;  on  the  field  felled  he 
The  thousands  that  thronged  thick  for  the  reaper, 


Edgar  the  Peaceable.  97 

Fondly  dreaming  that  the  dear-loved,  beautiful 

Island  of  Albion  could  ever  be  conquered 

While  Edgar  the  war-famed  wielded  her  sceptre, 

And  Dunstan,  the  holy  henchman  of  Jesus, 

Was  living  his  life-days  ;  for  the  Lord  God  had, 

Wielder  of  Glory,  given  His  word-oath 

Through  the  angel's  mouth,  All- Father  holy, 

Had  sworn  solemnly  that  the  son  of  great  Edmund, 

And  Dunstan  the  saint,  in  safety  should  govern 

The  isle  of  the  Anglians  :  He  ever  is  faithful, 

Covenant-keeping  king  of  the  heavens, 

Lord  everlasting.  —  The  land  of  the  Angles 

Shone  resplendent  with  the  sheen,  luminous 

Lustre  and  light  of  the  lives  of  numberless 

Saints  of  the  Lord  who  lived  in  that  marvellous 

Era  of  Anglia.     Earth  had  never 

Holier  and  heavenlier  heroes  of  Jesus 

Than  Oswald  and  Athelwold,  excellent,  faithful 

Shepherds  of  souls,  and  the  saintly  Dunstan, 

Who  sat  in  the  sacred  seat  of  the  holy, 

Gracious  Augustine,  God's  beloved 

Apostle  to  Albion.     These  priests  of  the  Lord 

And  others  in  Anglia  instantly  served  him 

With  praises  and  prayers,  preached  his  dear  gospel 

With  their  lips  and  their  lives,  letting  their  light 

Shine  before  men,  that  many  from  darkness 

Looked  for  the  lovely,  luminous,  bright-beaming, 

Life-giving  light  which  the  Lord  Almighty 

Beams  from  above  with  boundless  abundance 

On  all  men  that  ask  Him.     So  Edgar,  the  king, 


98  Old  English  Idyls. 

Guided,  governed  grandly,  proudly 

The  athelings  and  earlmen  of  Albion,  blessed 

Isle  of  the  ocean  ;  he  ever  was  zealous 

To  rule  in  righteousness,  rightly  marking 

How  his  fathers  before  him,  folk-lords  of  Albion, 

Well-loved  war-kings,  wisely  had  governed 

The  proudest  of  peoples.  —  The  prince  of  the  Anglians, 

Land-chief  beloved,  longed  greatly,  then, 

Yearning  no  little  for  his  Lady  to  solace  him, 

To  sit  at  his  side  smiling,  beguiling 

Days  that  were  dreary,  drawling,  weary ; 

The  heart  of  the  hero  was  heavy,  lone 

As  the  hours  dragged  on.     Oft  he  remembered 

Elfleda,  the  fond-loved  folk-queen  of  Anglia, 

Wished  she  were  with  him  ;  but  wise-ruling  Father, 

King  of  all  kings,  had  called  her  to  lay  down 

All  of  her  earth-joys  and  upward,  onward 

To  soar  on  her  soul's-wings,  to  seek  her  celestial 

Home  in  the  heavens.     The  holy,  beloved 

Lady  Elfleda  had  left  her  earthly 

Lord  and  his  love,  and  lay  on  her  heavenly 

Bridegroom's  bosom,  blushing  in  glory, 

Urging  him  again  to  go  over  the  story 

Of  his  life  down  below,  how  he  so  loved  the  world 

That  he  gladly  flung  down  his  glittering  crown 

At  the  feet  of  his  Father,  to  find  him  a  cross 

That  would  do  to  die  on,  to  redeem  the  wretched 

Millions  and  myriads  of  men  of  all  races 

Rushing  to  ruin.  —  'Mid  the  raptures  of  heaven, 

The  fair  Elfleda  failed  not  to  breathe  her 


Edgar  the  Peaceable.  99 

Pitiful  prayers  for  the  poor,  comfortless 

Love  she  had  left  in  the  land  of  the  Anglians, 

When  she  came  at  the  call  of  the  kind-ruling  Father 

To  her  home  in  the  heavens :  happy,  blissful, 

With  abundance  of  pardon,  prayed  she  that  Edgar 

Might  wash  his  soul  in  the  saving,  laving 

Blood  of  the  Lamb,  might  lay  his  sins  too 

On  the  Lamb  that  was  slain.  —  In  the  land  of  Albion, 

Southward,  westward,  where  the  waters  of  Exe 

Wind  through  the  woodlands,  lived  the  winsome,  lovely 

Lady  Elfrida,  famed  for  her  beauty, 

Daughter  of  Ordgar,  excellent,  trusty 

Earlman  of  Devonshire.     Eastward,  westward, 

To  the  south  and  the  north,  was  none  but  had  heard  of 

Elfrida  the  Fair :  far  o'er  the  rivers, 

In  hamlet  and  hall,  in  the  home  of  the  thrall, 

In  the  palace  of  princes,  the  peerless  charms  of  this 

Marvellous  maiden  were  the  minstrel's  theme 

And  the  lover's  dream  ;  in  lands  without  number 

Famed  was  Elfrida.     The  folk-leader  mighty, 

Wielder  of  England,  was  eager  in  spirit 

To  learn  for  himself  whether  Lady  Elfrida, 

The  dear  maid  of  Devon,  daughter  of  Ordgar, 

Were  half  so  fair  as  fame  had  painted  her, 

Were  truthfully  called  the  queenliest,  winsomest 

Woman  in  Albion.      Edgar,  the  king,  then, 

Urged  Athelwold,  earl  of  the  Anglians, 

His  fond-loved  friend,  to  fare  westward 

To  the  manor  of  Ordgar,  and  early  returning 

To  tell  him  in  truth  how  true  were  the  rumors 


ioo  Old  English  Idyls. 

Of  this  wonderful  woman,  well  to  consider 

How  the  fair  maid  of  Devon  would  adorn  and  honor 

The  seat  of  the  sweet,  sainted  Elfleda, 

Handmaid  of  God,  who  had  gone  from  his  love 

To  her  bright  home  above.     Blithely  went  Athehvokl 

Off  on  his  errand ;  the  earl,  hero-thane 

Gladly  did  go  at  his  gracious  liegelord's 

Friendly  behest :  hastened,  delayed  not, 

Went  to  the  westward,  weening,  doubting  not, 

He  soon  should  return  and  tell  his  dear  friend-lord 

That  fame  had  flattered  Elfrida  of  Devon, 

O'er-praised  her  beauty,  that  the  blessed,  stately 

Maidens  of  Wessex  were  winsomer,  lovelier 

Than  all  of  the  other  excellent,  beautiful 

Ladies  of  Albion.     Athelwolcl  hied,  then, 

Off  to  the  westward  ;  early  thereafter, 

Came  to  the  home  of  the  high-minded,  bold-mooded, 

Brave-hearted  baron.     There  burst  on  his  vision 

The  ineffable  beauty  of  the  blushing  and  flushing 

Elfrida,  the  far-famed.     He  flung  to  the  winds 

His  love  for  his  liegelord  :  little  he  cared  for 

His  king  and  his  kindred  ;  he  craved  but  the  smile 

Of  the  fond-loved  Elfrida,  the  fairest  of  women 

The  sun  ever  shone  on.     Said  he  but  little 

Of  the  errand  that  brought  him ;   of  honor  he  reckeci 

not, 

Thought  not  of  thaneship  ;  threw  away  madly 
All  other  earth  joys,  if  only  the  beautiful, 
Dove-eyed,  beloved  lady  of  Devon 
Would  let  her  dear  lips  lisp  him  to  rapture, 


Edgar  the  Peaceable.  101 

Would  murmur  the  word  that  was  more  in  his  thoughts 

than 

Kindred  and  country.     The  queenly  Elfrida 
Listened  not  loth  :  lightly,  Athelwold 
Gained  from  her  father  the  glad,  enrapturing 
Word  of  consent,  then  went  on  his  journey 
Off  to  the  eastward,  to  Edgar,  his  king, 
With  lies  for  his  liegelord.     The  land  of  the  Angles 
Far  to  the  east  had  erst  ever  been 
Bright  to  earl  Athelwold  :  dishonor  and  shame 
Cloud-like  had  come  now  to  cover  the  heavens 
With  darkness  a-dreary  :  death  is  far  better 
To  an  excellent  atheling  than  infamous  life  is.  — 
Edgar  and  Athelwold  early  did  meet,  then, 
Land-prince  and  liegeman  :  laughing,  jesting, 
Playfully  twitting  the  prince  of  the  Anglians, 
Said  then  Athelwold,  earlman,  liegeman, 
Treacherous  trickster  :  "  'T  is  true,  Sire, 
That  maidens  of  Wessex  are  winsomer,  lovelier. 
In  sooth,  fairer  than  the  famed,  notable 
Lady  of  Devon.      I  looked  on  the  maiden, 
And  lo  !  her  face  was  fair  as  a  vision, 
Comely  her  countenance,  queenly,  majestic, 
But  her  form  unlovely  ;  not  fain,  gladly 
Would  I  see  her  sit  in  the  saintly  Elfleda's 
Seat  at  thy  side  ;  my  soul  yearns  for  the 
Gracious,  graceful,  glory-encircled, 
Fawn-like  lady  whom  liegemen  and  heroes 
Delighted  to  look  on.  —  I  loth  should  behold  her 
Unqueenly,  uncouth,  as  she  came  through  the  mead-hall 


IO2  Old  English  Idyls. 

Bearing  a  beaker  to  benches  and  dais, 

To  liegemen  and  lord  :  a  laugh  of  derision 

Might  follow  the  folk-queen."    The  friend-lord  of  Wessex, 

Lord  of  all  Albion,  answered  his  thaneman  : 

"Thanks  do  I  owe  thee,  excellent  man, 

Good  earl  Athelwold,  for  all  thou  hast  spoken, 

Thane-like  hast  uttered.     I  early  shall  render  thee 

The  meed  thou  hast  earned  by  thine  eminent  wisdom, 

Mighty-famed  valor.     My  vassals,  dutiful, 

Early  shall  give  thee  excellent  jewels, 

Goodliest  of  gold-gems,  gifts  in  abundance, 

War-horses,  swords,  with  the  sweetest  of  maidens 

'Mid  the  kin  of  the  king  to  comfort  and  cheer  thee 

With  her  blushing  embraces."     Blandly,  artfully, 

Athelwold  answered  :  "  Edgar,  beloved, 

Gold-friend  of  heroes,  grant  me,  I  pray  thee, 

This  simple  petition,  myself  to  wed  this 

Maiden  of  Devon.     Debt-weary,  harassed, 

The  gold  of  the  lady  would  lighten  my  burden, 

Greatly  would  gladden  me.     Gracious  king  Edgar, 

Hear  my  petition."     The  helm  of  the  Angles, 

Edgar  the  king,  quickly,  speedily 

Sent  him  off  on  his  happy  errand  to  Devonshire, 

Wishing,  weening  for  his  well-loved  liegeman 

Abundance  of  bliss  in  the  blushing  embraces 

Of  Elfrida,  the  far-famed.     The  friend-lord  of  England 

Wist  not  the  grief  (God  alone  knew  it) 

Would  erelong  follow  that  foul,  ineffable 

Lie  of  his  liegeman  :  the  Lord  God  reigneth, 

And  all  false  ways  he  utterly  abhorreth  ; 


Edgar  the  Peaceable.  103 

The  treacherous  tongue  he  teareth  in  slivers, 

Plucketh  it  to  pieces  ;  will  punish  in  hell-fire 

Lips  that  are  lying.  —  The  lady  of  Devon, 

Elfrida  the  fair,  fondly  on  Athelwold 

Lavished  her  love :  little  she  dreamed,  then, 

That  a  queen's  crown  would  come  at  her  bidding, 

To  beam  on  her  brow.     Better  had  Athelwold 

Never  been  born,  when  anon  unto  Edgar 

The  story  was  told,  how  the  treacherous  thaneman 

By  falsehood  the  foulest  had  filched  from  his  liegelord 

Fond-loving,  trustful,  the  fairest  of  women 

In  all  of  Albion.     Angry  of  mood,  then, 

Was  Edgar  the  Peaceful,  early  set  out  to 

East-Anglian  land,  to  learn  for  himself  there 

(No  friend  should  betray  him)  if  Elfrida,  in  sooth, 

Were  half  so  fair  as  fame  painted  her, 

Were  called  truthfully  the  queenliest,  winsomest 

Woman  in  Albion.      Early  anon, 

A  henchman  of  Edgar  entered  the  hall  of 

Alderman  Athelwold,  off  to  the  northward, 

Gave  him  this  greeting  :  "  Great  earl  Athelwold, 

Edgar,  thy  fond-loving  friend-lord  doth  greet  thee, 

Longeth  to  meet  thee.     The  lord  of  all  England 

Is  hither  a-faring  ;  would  fain  visit  thee 

Here  in  thy  home  ;  would  hold  to  his  bosom 

Edgar  the  bairn,  infant  beloved, 

His  dear-loved  godson  ;  would  greet  Elfrida, 

The  lady  of  Devon."     Then  lorn,  wretched 

Was  Athelwold  earl,  anxious  of  spirit, 

Heavy  of  heart  :  hard  bested  was 


IO4  Old  English  Idyls. 

The  tricksy  deceiver.     Sought  he  Elfrida, 

He  told  tenderly  the  torture  and  anguish 

That  had  seized  on  his  soul,  beseeching  forgiveness 

For  the  wrong  he  had  wrought  her,  wretchedly  besought 

her 

By  the  love  that  he  bore  her,  begged  her  to  save  him 
From  the  fury  of  Edgar ;  urged  her  beseechingly 
So  to  conceal  her  soul-dazzling  beauty 
That  the  king  would  not  crave  her,  nor  kill  him  in  anger 
For  the  wrong  he  had  wrought  him.     But  wrathful,  wroth 
Was  the  Lady  Elfrida :  her  love,  then,  turned  to 
Hatred  the  hottest.     The  high-born  folk-lady 
Was  frantic  and  frenzied,  flung  away  pity  ; 
Bitter  her  words  were  :  "  Woe  unto  Athelwold, 
Liar,  deceiver  !     As  Lady  of  England 
And  of  all  of  Albion,  /  had  been  honored, 
Had  lie  been  but  trusty.     The  traitor  shall  perish 
Ere  to-day's  sun  sinketh."     Secretly  she  clad  her 
In  robes  that  were  richest,  arrayed  her  gorgeously 
In  precious  apparel,  put  on  the  rarest 
Of  jewels  and  gems  that  the  generous-mooded, 
Loving  but  treacherous  lord  of  East-Anglia 
Long  had  been  lavishing  on  his  Lady  Elfrida, 
And  went  forth  to  welcome  the  world-famous  hero, 
England's  dear  Edgar.     Early  anon 
There  burst  on  the  king  that  abundant,  ineffable 
Vision  of  loveliness  that  had  lured  earl  Athelwold 
Down  to  dishonor,  had  dazzled  a  liegeman     . 
To  be  false  to  his  folk-lord.     The  defender  of  heroes, 
Lord  of  all  Albion,  looked  on  Elfrida 


Edgar  the  Peaceable.  105 

With  rapture  and  wonder ;  wist  he  how  basely 

His  liegeman  had  lied  :  loved  he  the  fairest 

And  winsomest  of  women  ;  would  wed  her  forthwith 

And  slay  her  deceiver.     Soon  thereafter, 

Athelwold  earl  and  Edgar  his  liegelord 

Hunted  in  Wherwell.     Hot  in  his  spirit, 

Bitter  and  angry,  Edgar  the  king 

Smote  with  his  lance  the  lying,  treacherous 

Earl  of  East-Anglia ;  out  in  the  wood  there 

Did  him  to  death  ;  down  he  fell  head-long, 

Dead  in  his  traces.     Dear-loved  Edgar 

Wedded  Elfrida,  widely-famed,  beautiful 

Daughter  of  Ordgar.     Ethelred  king 

And  Edmund  the  atheling,  early  thereafter, 

Were  born  of  her  body,  bairns  of  Edgar, 

Dear  little  princes.     Daily,  nightly, 

Ever  incessantly,  Edgar  the  king 

And  the  fond-loved  Elfrida  found  on  their  hearts  the 

Burden  of  sin  ;  saw  no  peace  till 

They  builded  a  minster  by  the  margin  of  Wherwell, 

A  house  to  the  Lord.     Holy  virgins, 

Servants  of  Jesus,  they  set  therein,  then  ; 

Singing  their  songs,  sweetest  of  melodies  ; 

Ever  they  raise  anthems  of  praise, 

Hymns  of  thanksgiving,  heavenward  breathing 

By  day  and  by  night  their  never-remitting 

Prayers  of  faith  with  fasting  and  vigil, 

To  God  and  His  glory.  —  Great  was  Edgar, 

Far  spread  his  fame  :  few  and  slight  were 

The  sins  of  his  soul.     Some  of  the  elders, 


io6  Old  English  Idyls. 

Old  men  of  England,  often  have  told  us 

That  the  king  was  too  kind  to  the  cruel,  perfidious, 

Lecherous  Danemen,  too  lenient  of  mood 

To  sea-dogs  and  vikings   who  had   swooped   from  the 

northward 

And  eastward  of  England  ;  but  all  of  the  holy, 
Pious  and  godly  priests  of  the  Lord  God, 
Servants  of  Heaven,  say  that  that  atheling 
Was  blotless  and  spotless.  —  Though  spacious  his  fame, 
Edgar  was-humble  ;  earnest,  God-fearing 
Son  of  the  church,  seeking,  begging 
The  counsel  of  learned  liegemen  of  Jesus, 
Bishops  and  fathers  ;  fain  delayed  his 
Crowning  as  king,  till  there  came  to  his  spirit 
Forgiveness  and  peace,  pardon  for  all  the 
Sins  of  his  youth-days.     A  sixteen  of  winters 
He  ruled  over  Albion,  ere  the  eminent,  pious 
Dunstan  and  Oswald,  athelings  of  Heaven, 
Laid  on  his  head  hands  of  anointing, 
Hallowing,  holy ;  held  to  his  lips 
The  blessed,  beautiful  book  of  the  gospels 
That  our  kings  have  kissed  when,  crowned,  they  appealed 

for 

Help  unto  Heaven.  —  The  hero-liegelord 
Early  thereafter  set  out  to  the  northward, 
Sailing  the  seas  that  encircle  and  girdle 
The  island  of  Albion  :  ocean  was  glad, 
Winsome  the  waters,  welcomed  the  beautiful, 
Fleeting  and  foamy  floats  of  the  Anglians 
That  bosomed  the  waters  ;  begging,  craving 


Edgar  the  Peaceable.  107 

The  honor  of  wafting  England's  dear  barks 

Off  on  their  errand.     Out  on  the  waves,  then, 

Forth  on  the  flood-deeps,  fared  the  dear  vessels 

Far  and  away ;  westward,  northward, 

The  birds  of  the  billow  breasted  the  waters, 

Skimming  the  currents,  came  then  early 

Where  dear-loved  Dee,  dashing,  splashing, 

Northward  and  westward  windeth  and  bendeth, 

Rushing  to  seaward.      Soon,  then,  Edgar, 

Lord  of  all  Albion,  loftily,  proudly 

Saw  there  awaiting  him  widely- famed  earlmen 

And  athelings  of  Albion,  eight  of  them  ready 

To  bow  to  his  bidding ;  blithe  was  the  hero, 

Lord  of  the  Anglians  ;  not  ever  had  king 

Liegemen-thanes  so  illustrious,  mighty 

As  Edgar  of  England.     The  excellent  heroes, 

Nine  dear  athelings,  early  anon 

Mounted  a  sea-boat,  sailing  o'er  Dee's 

Well-loved  waters  :   wide-famous  Edgar 

Guided  the  helm  ;  his  high-mooded  liegemen, 

Eight  great  earlmen  and  athelings  of  Albion, 

Bent  to  the  oars,  and  brought  the  good  sea-wood, 

Bark  of  the  atheling,  early  thereafter 

To  the  shrine  of  St.  John,  where  they  joined  their  voices 

In  praises  and  prayer,  passing  erelong 

Back  on  their  journey.     Joyous,  gleeful, 

Exultant  was  Edgar :   England,  beloved 

Mother  of  heroes,  though  mighty  her  fame  is, 

Not  ever  had  seen,  nor  e'er  had  dreamed  of 

The  sight  seen  there  by  swains  of  that  marvellous 


io8  Old  English  Idyls. 

Era  of  heroes,  when  Edgar,  her  liegelord, 

Had  kings  for  oarsmen,  eager,  craving 

To  serve  at  his  bidding.  —  The  blessed  Edgar 

Early  thereafter  ended  his  earth-joys, 

The  lord  of  all  Albion  chose  another  light, 

Beauteous  and  winsome  ;  the  wielder  of  England 

Abandoned  this  frail,  this  barren  life, 

And  sailed  on  his  soul's-wings  to  his  sweet,  blessed 

Home  in  the  heavens,  where  he  hero-like  serveth 

With  angels  and  archangels  forever  and  ever. 


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BOOKS  ON   HIGHER  ENGLISH 

EDITED    BY 

ALBERT   S.   COOK, 

Professor  of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  Yale  University. 

Sidney's  Defense  of  Poesy,     xlv  +  103  pages.     For  introduction, 

So  cents. 

Shelley's  Defense  of  Poetry,     xxvi  +  86  pages.     For  introduction, 

50  cents. 

The  Art  of  Poetry.  The  Poetical  Treatises  of  Horace,  Vida,  and 
Boileau,  with  the  translations  by  Howes,  Pitt,  and  Soame.  Iviii  + 
303  pages.  For  introduction,  $1.12. 

Cardinal  Newman's  Essay  on  Poetry.  With  reference  to 
Aristotle's  Poetics,  x  +  36  pages.  For  introduction,  30  cents. 

Addison's  Criticisms  on  Paradise  Lost,  xxiv  +  200  pages.  For 
introduction,  $1.00. 

Leigh  Hunt's  Answer  to  the  Question  « What  is  Poetry  ? ' 

Including  Remarks  on  Versification,     vi  +  98  pages.     For  intro 
duction,  50  cents. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess.  Boards,  xlvi  +  187  pages.  For  intro 
duction,  40  cents. 


EDMUND   C.   STEDMAN,  Author  of  "Victorian    Poets,"   "Poets   of 
America,1"  "The  Nature  and  Elements  of  Poetry,"  etc.: 

More  than  once  of  late,  when  asked  to  name,  for  some 
friend  or  correspondent,  a  course  of  reading  upon  the  spirit 
and  structure  of  Poetry,  I  have  at  once  recommended  Pro 
fessor  Albert  S.  Cook's  series,  and  have  been  grateful  to 
him  for  his  admirable  labors.  He  could  have  made  no 
better  choice  of  treatises  to  edit ;  and  Sidney,  Shelley,  Addi- 
son,  Hunt,  and  Newman  have  had  no  better  editor  —  so  far 
as  their  exquisite  essays  upon  the  divine  art  are  concerned. 
Professor  Cook's  notes  are  the  fruit  of  sympathetic  taste 
and  liberal  scholarship.  The  books,  in  fact,  are  models  as 
handbooks,  upon  an  ideal  subject,  designed  for  practical 
use.  

GINN  &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

Boston.          New  York.          Chicago.          Atlanta.          Dallas. 


English  Composition  and  Rhetoric 

Text-books  and  works  of  reference  for 
high  schools,  academies,  and  colleges. 


Lessons  in  English.  Adapted  to  the  study  of  American  Classics.  A 
text-book  for  high  schools  and  academies.  By  SARA  E.  H.  LOCK- 
WOOD,  formerly  Teacher  of  English  in  the  High  School,  New  Haven 
Conn.  Cloth.  403  pages.  For  introduction,  $1.12.  ' 

A  Practical  Course  in  English  Composition.  By  ALPHONSO  G.  NEW 
COMER,  Assistant  Professor  of  English  in  Leland  Stanford  Junior 
University.  Cloth.  249  pages.  For  introduction,  80  cents. 

A  Method  of  English  Composition.  By  T.  WHITING  BANCROFT,  late 
Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Literature  in  Brown  University. 
Cloth.  101  pages.  For  introduction,  50  cents. 

The  Practical  Elements  of  Rhetoric.  By  JOHN  F.  GENUNG,  Professor 
of  Rhetoric  in  Amherst  College.  Cloth.  483  pages.  For  intro 
duction,  $1.25. 

A  Handbook  of  Rhetorical  Analysis.  Studies  in  style  and  invention, 
designed  to  accompany  the  author's  Practical  Elements  of  Rhetoric. 
By  JOHN  F.  GENUNG.  Cloth.  306  pages.  Introduction  and  teachers' 
price,  $1.12. 

Outlines  of  Rhetoric.  Embodied  in  rules,  illustrative  examples,  and  a 
progressive  course  of  prose  composition.  By  JOHN  V.  GENUNG. 
Cloth.  331  pages.  For  introduction,  $1.00. 

The  Principles  of  Argumentation.  By  GEORGE  P.  BAKER,  Assistant 
Professor  of  English  in  Harvard  University.  Cloth.  414  pages.  For 
introduction,  $1.12. 

The  Forms  of  Discourse.  With  an  introductory  chapter  on  style.  By 
WILLIAM  B.  CAIRNS,  Instructor  in  Rhetoric  in  the  University  of 
Wisconsin.  Cloth.  356  pages.  For  introduction,  $1.15. 

Outlines  of  the  Art  of  Expression.  By  J.  H.  GILMORE,  Professor  of 
Logic,  Rhetoric,  and  English  in  the  University  of  Rochester,  N.Y. 
Cloth.  1 17  pages.  For  introduction,  60  cents. 

The  Rhetoric  Tablet.  By  F.  N.  SCOTT,  Assistant  Professor  of  Rhetoric, 
University  of  Michigan,  and  J.  V.  DENNEY,  Associate  Professor  of 
Rhetoric,  Ohio  State  University.  No.  i,  white  paper  (ruled).  No.  2, 
tinted  paper  (ruled).  Sixty  sheets  in  each.  For  introduction,  1 5  cents. 

Public  Speaking  and  Debate.  A  manual  for  advocates  and  agitators. 
By  GEORGE  JACOB  HOLYOAKE.  Cloth.  266  pages.  For  intro 
duction,  £1.00. 


GlNN  &  COMPANY,   Publishers, 

Boston.    New  York.    Chicago.    Atlanta.    Dallas. 


TEXT-BOOKS   ON    RHETORIC 

FOE  HIGHER  SCHOOLS  AND  COLLEGES. 

BY   JOHN    F.  GENUNG, 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  in  A  mherst  College, 

The  Practical  Elements  of  Rhetoric.  i2mo.  Cloth.  483  pages. 
For  introduction,  $1.25. 

Outlines  Of  Rhetoric.  Embodied  in  rules,  illustrative  examples,  and 
a  progressive  course  of  prose  composition.  i2mo.  Cloth. 
331  pages.  For  introduction,  $1.00. 

A  Handbook  of  Rhetorical  Analysis.  Studies  in  style  and  inven 
tion,  designed  to  accompany  the  author's  "  Practical  Elements  of 
Rhetoric."  I2mo.  Cloth.  306  pages.  Introduction  and  teachers' 
price,  $1.12. 

PROFESSOR  GENUNG'S  Practical  Elements  of  Rhetoric,  though 
a  work  on  a  trite  subject,  has  aroused  general  enthusiasm  by 
its  freshness  and  practical  worth. 

The  treatment  is  characterized  by  good  sense,  simplicity, 
originality,  availability,  completeness,  and  ample  illustration. 

It  is  throughout  constructive  and  the  student  is  regarded 
at  every  step  as  endeavoring  to  make  literature.  All  of  the 
literary  forms  have  been  given  something  of  the  fullness 
hitherto  accorded  only  to  argument  and  oratory. 

The  Outlines  of  Rhetoric  is  in  no  sense  a  condensation  or 
adaptation  of  the  author's  "  Elements,"  but  an  entirely  new 
book  prepared  for  a  different  field. 

Great  care  has  been  taken  in  this  work  to  state  the  prin 
ciples  in  such  plain  and  simple  language  that  the  pupil  will 
not  fail  to  understand ;  and  such  is  its  clearness  that  even 
beginners  will  find  many  of  the  deeper  principles  of  expres 
sion,  as  well  as  the  simpler,  both  lucid  and  interesting. 

The  Handbook  of  Rhetorical  Analysis  follows  the  general  plan 
of  the  "Elements,"  being  designed  to  alternate  with  that 
from  time  to  time,  as  different  stages  of  the  subject  are 
reached. 

GINN  &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

Boston.         New  York.          Chicago.          Atlanta.         Dallai. 


HUDSON'S  SHAKESPEARE 

For  School  and  Home  Use. 
By  HENRY    N.  HUDSON,  LL.D., 

Author  of  "TAe  Life,  Art,  and  Characters  of  Shakespeare" 
Editor  of  "  Tht  Harvard  Shakespeare"  etc. 

Revised  and  enlarged  Editions  of  twenty-three  Plays.    Carefully  expurgated, 

with  explanatory  Notes  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  and  critical  Notes  at 

the  end  of  each  volume.    One  play  in  each  volume. 
Square  i6mo.     Varying  in  size  from  128  to  253  pages.     Mailing  price  of  each: 

cloth,  50  cents;   paper,  35  cents.     Introduction   price,  cloth,  45  cents; 

paper,  30  cents.    Per  set  (in  box;,  $10.00. 

Why  is  Hudson's  Shakespeare  the  standard  in  a  majority  of  the  best 
schools  where  the  greatest  attention  is  paid  to  this  subject  ?  Because 
Dr.  Hudson  was  the  ablest  Shakespearean  scholar  America  has  ever 
known.  His  introductions  to  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  are  well  worth 
the  price  of  the  volume.  He  makes  the  characters  almost  living  flesh 
and  blood,  and  creates  a  great  interest  on  the  part  of  the  student  and  a 
love  for  Shakespeare's  works,  without  which  no  special  progress  can  be 
made.  Whoever  can  command  the  interest  of  the  pupil  in  a  great 
author  or  his  works  is  the  person  who  renders  the  greatest  service. 

The  list  of  plays  in  Hudson's  School  Shakespeare  is  as  follows : 

A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.       Henry  the  Fourth,  Part  I.  Macbeth. 

The  Merchant  of  Venice.  Henry  the  Fourth,  Part  II.  Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing.  Henry  the  Fifth.  Othello. 

As  You  Like  It.  Henry  the  Eighth.  Cymbeline. 

The  Tempest.  Romeo  and  Juliet.  Coriolanus, 

King  John.  Julius  Caesar.  Twelfth  Night. 

Richard  the  Second.  Hamlet.  The  Winter's  Tale. 

Richard  the  Third.  King  Lear. 


C.  T.  Winchester,  Professor  of  Eng 
lish  Literature,  Wesley  an  University: 
The  notes  and  comments  in  the  school 
edition  are  admirably  fitted  to  the  need  of 
the  student,  removing  his  difficulties  by 
stimulating  his  interest  and  quickening  his 
perception. 


Hiram  Cor  son,  Professor  of  English 
Literature,  Cornell  University:  I  con 
sider  them  altogether  excellent.  The 
notes  give  all  the  aid  needed  for  an  under 
standing  of  the  text,  without  waste  and 
distraction  of  the  student's  mind.  The 
introductory  matter  to  the  several  plays  is 
especially  worthy  of  approbation. 


invite  correspondence  with  all  who  are  interested  in  the 
study  of  Shakespeare  in  the  class-roont. 


GINN    &    COMPANY,  Publishers, 

Boston.  New  York.  Chicago.  Atlanta.  Dallas, 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


2* 
X  "  1940 


;*0  Lt) 


NOV  15)377 


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ua. 


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OWVERSITY  of  CAUFORNLT 

AT 

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